Fire and Ice
by Ayshen
Summary: Series of unrelated EO one-shots/shorts. 16th is, "Written in Blood", "Everything is heightened, peaking before he's even ready, and they discover each other like maps to new universes."
1. 9 Crimes

**A/N: These are totally unrelated one-shots/shorts. They will all be rated a strict M. This is my first real time writing EO smut, so be gentle. **

"Are you still with your wife?"

His silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, "Then don't fucking touch me"

Before she could slam the door in his face he snuck his inside catching it, "Liv"

Her response was to push back crushing his foot against the doorjamb, "God dammit, move" she ordered, "Just go away"

Leaning forward he managed create an opening and slide in past her as the door crashed loudly behind him, "I can't do that"

There was a scowl on her face, arms crossed protectively over her chest, "You sonofabitch" she spat at him, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

In spite of her obvious anger and caustic attitude, he couldn't deny that he was slightly turned on. There had always been something about her that made his blood run hot whether it had been the moments they would rage at each other across the bullpen, watching her interrogate some scumbag, or the times when her legs were wound around him as exploded inside of her.

Stepping towards her he extended his arm, his fingers grazing her bicep, "Liv"

OoO

A tremble courses through her the moment flesh meets flesh and she hates herself for this weakness inside of her that craves the way his touch marks her. She promised herself she wouldn't do this again; told herself that until he made a conscious decision about the state of his marriage that she wouldn't allow him to have this affect over her.

The way her hardened nipples push against the material of her tank top prove she is a fucking liar, because she knew the moment he ended up on her stoop how this would end.

There was a time, before him, she had very black and white notions about affairs…after him; her life began to be consumed with painful gray complexities.

"El"

It's a beg for mercy because every time she watches him walk away he steals a piece of her, and she has this irrational fear that the final time he goes she may cease to exist. Yet, she is powerless against this. She is the butterfly, drawn towards the warmth and brilliance of the light even as it singes her wings.

His thumb sinks into her muscle, his grip wrapping around her firm but gentle...he is sandpaper and lace, fire and rain, sin and salvation.

OoO

Her doe eyes are widened peering up from under a fan of dark lashes and he can see the confliction as the color deepens to a shade of espresso. Gently he pulls her towards him until their torsos are touching, her hardened nipples grazing his chest, causing his skin to flush with aroused heat.

She looks away from him, down to her feet and his free hand comes up to her cheek, letting the rough pad of his thumb swipe along the apple of her cheek, down to her bottom lip, "Liv, look at me"

When she doesn't comply, his hand slides down under her chin, slowly tilting her face upwards and bringing her gaze back to meet his. The toffee flecks in her eyes swirl with so many emotions and he hates himself for ever letting her doubt where he belongs.

Before he can speak her arm slips from his grasp and her palms rise to rest on his cheeks. For a moment they simply stare at each other, and where words fail them; their eyes speak an odyssey.

Swallowing hard he slides his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, tethering himself to her as he intertwined his fingers with the silken chestnut colored strands. Pulling softly backwards he watched her lips part, the moan tumbling from her throat, and falling into his own as he captured her mouth.

It's a carefully choreographed ballet; the rhythm built over a thirteen year song, debuted on a snowy evening in December when he waltzed back into her life. It was angrier then, faster, harder, rougher, the taste of sweat slick skinned and unspoken truths igniting the air.

This time, it's slower, less frenzied because she needs to understand that there is no walking away. Giving her up would be the emotional equivalent of eating his gun.

His tongue slides against the seam of her lips, swiping at the fullness before he sinks his teeth into her plump bottom lip tugging, suckling, until her arms wind around his neck and her own tongue slides to meet his.

Their kisses usually begin as a battle of control, dueling mouths, warring hearts. Her taste is intoxicating, one taste and he is drunk off her. Pulling his mouth from her own, he leaves open mouthed wet kisses trailing her jaw line, his teeth nipping at her ear lobe, tongue outlining the delicate conch and he can feel the tremble course through her, "You like that?" he whispers his breath hot against her cooled skin.

OoO

The first time was almost too intense, like sparking electric wires. Now it's a delicious heat and she feels ignited, consumed, burning from the inside out.

In response her mouth comes to his neck, her teeth sinking softly over his pulse point, pulling the soft flesh into her mouth and suckling. His body tightens and she can feel his erection thump softly against her through his jeans, "Fuck" he whispers hoarsely as his leg pushes her thighs open in attempt to push them even closer together.

The moisture pools between her legs, and she unconsciously starts to gyrate against his thigh trying to relieve some of the ache. She can feel his hands slide down her body before cupping her ass and pulling her even closer to him.

Nimble fingers toy with the hem of her shirt, dancing on the patch of exposed flesh from wear the cloth had ridden up before sliding it up her body and over her head. She can feel his upper body pull away so that he can look down at her.

She's never felt more beautiful than the moments he looks at her, like that, cerulean eyes cloudy with desire, "So gorgeous" he says his flattened hand coming to rest on her stomach, dancing upwards on her skin to the valley of her breasts.

"El"

Gently he runs his hand over a pebbled nipple and she feels pleasure ripple through. Taking his thumb and forefinger he pinches at the rose colored nub, rolling it, pulling gently before lavishing the same attention on the other.

When he seems pleased with his work he smirks before pulling her back close to him and burying his nose in her hair, "You have no idea what you do to me" he murmurs before pushing them gently backwards towards the bedroom, his mouth back latched onto her neck as he led them through the darkened hallway.

The backs of her knees hit the bed softly before he is pushing her backwards and stripping off his shirt. He leans over her and her hands come to run over the hard planes of his chest, over his broad shoulders, down the muscles in his arms. His body is perfect, like a Greek sculpture in an art history book.

OoO

Her body was made for sin; like an artist's paint brush had created her from someone's dream. From the plumpness of her lips, the broad strokes of bronze on her skin, down the delicate column of her throat, painted soft curves, she was perfection to him.

His tongue comes to rest in the dip between her breasts, leaving a wet trail to her left nipple, suckling at it softly, his hand coming to palm her other breast, alternating between the two until both are shining wet with the moisture of his mouth.

Smiling he places a chaste kiss on her abdomen, kissing down to her belly button, suckling just above the place where her lounge pants begin as he curls his fingers around the waist band and pulls them down her long limbs.

A growl escapes his throat when he realizes she isn't wearing underwear and is already shimmering with wetness for him. Bringing his finger to her slickened folds he rubs against them softly and hears her whine in anticipation, "Tell me what you want"

"Mmm" she moans.

Applying more pressure he watches the way her lower half arches off the bed, "Tell me" he orders again flicking her clit with his thumb.

"Oh God El"

"Tell me" he spits out sliding a finger inside of her.

"You damn it, you, always you"

It's all the encouragement he needs to thrust his digit inside of her as her breathing became panting. Sliding another finger in he begins to piston in and out as her hips rise up to meet his machinations.

Curling them inside of her, he anticipates the way her walls clench around him as he begins to hit the spongy center again and again.

Her head thrashes around as she humps back against his hand trying to take his fingers deeper. In response he brings his mouth to her swollen clit, wrapping his lips around it and suckling while keeping his fingers at a frantic pace.

"Jesus" she cries out and he knows she is close and this only fuels his actions to bring her over the edge.

When the orgasm seizes her he keeps up his manipulations lapping at her juices and letting her ride wave after wave of pleasure. She is still panting when he slides his fingers away, bringing them to his mouth and sucking brazenly at her taste.

Sliding his own pants off he watches as she sits up reaching out to him and her hand wraps around his hardness, rolling the foreskin down as she begins to pump him gently. When her soft pink tongue darts out to swipe across his head he feels his knees quake before her mouth slowly wraps around him. Slowly she suckles at the head, pumping his shaft and he fights the urge to thrust further into her mouth. She seems to sense his anticipation and she removes her hand, slowly sliding her mouth further down him, her tongue teasing the underside of his shaft, her hands wrapping around to his bare buttocks controlling how deep he could thrust in her throat and his hands wound in her hair, as her eyes looked up at him and he swear he could die happy in that moment.

The pace is desperate but he knows he needs to stop because he doesn't want to cum before he's buried inside of her so he pulls away and she looks a bit confused before he rubs absently at her hair, "I need to be inside of you"

OoO

She had wanted to taste him, to watch his eyes go to that shade of cobalt before he exploded in her mouth but she knows that she needs him inside of her because it's a feeling of utter completeness.

He strokes his length and she scoots back on the bed, so he can hover over her. His free hand comes to her wrists, pinning them above her head before she can feel his length slowly slide inside of her. Her walls begin to clench him from the moment he enters her and her whole body is flushed as he settles against her and stays still for a moment, "You feel amazing"

His cock twitches inside of her, their pulses matched at racing speeds, and then he pulls out slowly, almost all the way before sinking back down inside of her. The thrusts are long, fluid, deep, slow, and her legs wrap around him, heels digging into his ass as he continues his leisurely assault.

Their mouths are fused together, tongues dancing, and she opens her eyes and when she looks into his she sees something more than lust, something that scares her and she clamps her eyes shut again focusing on the pleasure instead of the pain.

OoO

The torturous pace can only last so long before his body is screaming for more and his hands grip her hips as he begins to thrust faster, harder, his ass clenching with each thrust as her velvety walls squeeze down on him.

As he bottoms out she makes small whimpering sounds and it only fuels him more. In and out, over and over, his balls slapping obscenely against her as he tries to dive deeper and deeper inside of her.

A growl escapes his throat as her hips rise off the bed to meet his thrusts. He's on the brink and when her name tumbles off his lips he can feel himself swell, "Cum for me" he grinds out sliding his fingers in between them and coming to her clit, his thumb rubbing harsh circles over it.

Her pants become cries and he loves to watch the waves of pleasure course through her as her body begins to tremble as she topples over the edge. He keeps thrusting as he watches the orgasm consume her until he feels himself swell and tense before he spills inside of her.

Drained he brings himself resting half resting atop her, his forehead pressing against hers, his lips brushing against her lips, "You're amazing" he whispers his hand brushing her dampened strands of hair away from her face.

"El"

He falls to the side of her sighing as he looks to the ceiling, "I'm leaving her"

She rises off the bed , half sitting, pulling the sheet over herself, "Elliot, don't feed me a line of"

"I drew up the papers today, I'm telling her tomorrow" he says honestly their eyes meeting.

If he hadn't been able to read her so clearly he wouldn't have noticed the way she looked away guiltily. Running his hands across his face he raises up, their bare thighs grazing each other, "It's not your fault"

Her neck snaps, her lips in a tight line, "Don't…not after…"

Shaking his head he looks down to the floor and then back up to her, "My marriage was on life support long before…this. I don't even know why I stayed as long as I did" he admitted.

"Because you're a good man"

There is conviction, belief in her tone and he laughs dryly, "No I'm not"

Her mouth opens and his finger comes to rest over her lips, "I'm stubborn, have anger issues, the tendency to punch things when I'm mad, and I'm selfish as hell…which is why there is no letting you go option" he told her sternly, "Now that I have you, I'm never letting you go"

OoO

His words scare her because she's afraid of fucking this up…and she can't lose him, not again…not after this. This time, it would kill her. But the fear of watching him walk out that door, never feeling this again, it scares her much more.

"I love you Liv"

Blinking she can feel the tears sting her eyes as his hand comes to the nape of her neck and his lips kiss the crown of her head and the words tumble softly over her lips, "I love you too"


	2. Interrogate Me

**A/N: Ack, I haven't written anything in months, the muse has been of on sabbatical or something. So, this is basically PWP but it got the muse writing so I hope you like it, I'm a tad rusty. **

It's the goddamn smirk that did her in.

All he had to do was look at her like that, his blue eyes shining with mischief and she has the hardest time firmly telling him no…especially since this whole idea of his seriously turns her on.

This explains why at 1:30 in the morning, when they should be at home in their apartment in bed, they are instead in the now empty squad room of the 1-6.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" she asks trying to ignore the wolfish grin and sound more annoyed then she actually is.

He raises his eyebrows and leans into her, that smell that is so uniquely him wafting over her, "I think it's a great idea"

His tone is low, that deep vibrato making goose bumps explode onto her skin. He knows the effect he's having because he quickly leans into to peck her lips and then pulls back, "Do you know how many times I fantasized about this"

Biting her lip she wonders if it's as many times as she has. Entwining their fingers he pulls her into the interrogation room. As soon as he shuts the door, he has her pulled flush against him, his legs straddling the outsides of her own pushing her against the steel table.

"So Detective, how did you want to interrogate me"

Looking up at him she played with the zipper of his sweater. If she was going to get fired for this; she sure as hell was going to make it worth it. Smiling she starts to unzip the hoodie before pulling him closer to her, "Roughly"

She can feel his fingers dig into the flesh of her backside as he picks her up and places her on the cold metal surface. Her arms slide under his shirt, her nails scratching down his chest. A hiss escapes his lips, before he buries his face in the crook of her neck and scrapes his teeth down the sensitive skin.

"Fuck Liv" tumbles from his lips as his mouth trails along her jaw, before capturing her bottom lip between his teeth.

A strangled cry escapes her throat and dies on his tongue as he slides it in between her lips, tangling with her own. His kisses have always been possessive, consuming, like he was trying to steal her soul through her mouth.

Her hands roam freely over his muscular chest, fingers lost in the crevices and valleys of his torso, fingerprints imprinted with the topography of his body as his tangle in her hair.

He pulls back slightly as he disconnects from her, his cobalt eyes glazed over, a slight smirk lifting the corners of his mouth as he stares at her.

At first it made her uncomfortable, self conscious, to have his gaze locked on her, his eyes roving over her body, like he was slightly in awe of the fact she was really in front of him. Then she realized, that was exactly how she felt. There were mornings she woke before him, and she let her eyes memorize every line and angle of his face; still in disbelief they had come to this point in their lives.

Leaning in, he presses his lips against hers again, this time softer, deeper, exploring the caverns of her mouth until they are both breathless and panting. Leaning his forehead against hers he nudges her nose, "I confess detective" he teases.

A slight chuckle escapes her mouth as she pushes his shirt upwards, his naked skin glowing in the dimly lit room, "I'm going to need that confession in writing"

His hands cup her cheeks, tilting her head up to look into her eyes, "In blood"

It's the intensity that always threatens to steal her soul. She has always prided herself on being fiercely independent, strong on her own, but she needs him in a way that is contradictory to everything she once thought about herself.

He slides his strong hands down her neck, over her shoulders, trailing down her arms until he comes to the hem of her shirt. In one swoop it's discarded, and she can feel her nipples strain against the confines of her bra.

Thick fingers twist the clasp and she's revealed to him; naked in so many ways, vulnerable. His thumb swipes over her pebbled nubs and she feels a bolt of electricity course through her body. She was wet before, from the mere thought of this but now she can feel the juices pooling in between her thighs as his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Grabbing the button on his jeans, she pops them open slowly, pushing them just down to his hips. His erection tents the black boxer shorts and she slides her hand down the waistband, fingers circling around his shaft.

His head falls back as he groans at the contact and she begins to pump him in a deliciously slow rhythm. There is a part of her that knows that this slow dance they do isn't exactly the safest idea for where they were at but she can't help but want to prolong the feeling as long as possible.

Her thumb slides over his head, his pre-cum wetting her finger as his breaths become harsher. She loves to watch him like this, to see all the rigidity leave his body and watch him come undone.

A growl roars from him and he grabs her wrist to stop her, "Stop" he says pulling her hand away from him, closing his eyes to slow his ragged breathing.

It's the way her eyes look up at him, under hooded lashes, her gaze filled with so much lust and love that he feels his insides clench and twist in a pleasurable sort of pain.

Grabbing her hips, he pulls her to the edge of the table, before swiftly unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down to her ankles. His fingers dance back up her legs, sliding up her inner thighs, teasing up to where she aches for him most.

"You're wet" he teases, slowly running just his fingertip over her soaked panties.

"Nice detective skills" she teases, fighting the tremble coursing through her.

He laughs softly before rubbing harder, the material of her panties rubbing against her slickened folds. She can feel herself whimper as she arches up to him, needing to feel more, needing him to touch her.

Swiftly he pulls his hand away before roughly pulling her panties down around her ankles. His hardness is in his hand, pumping softly as he closes the slight distance between them, "Need you now" he grounds out as he slides against her, rubbing against her swollen center.

Slowly, almost painfully, he slides inside of her, connecting them before leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. He twitches as her velvet walls encase him perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that finally found the perfect fit.

The feeling makes his chest swell with pride as he begins to pull out and thrust back inside of her. She wishes she would have kicked off her jeans because she aches to wrap her legs around him and dig her heels into his skin.

Instead she wraps her arms around him, her nails tearing into his skin. There will be marks in the morning, proof of what had transpired and she knows that turns them both on in ways they don't say out loud because they would have admit they crave ownership of the other.

His palms roughly massage her breasts, his fingers rolling and twisting her nips as he slides in and out of her, their skins slapping together, her wetting staining both of them.

"Oh God El" she mutters as his skin tingles in anticipation.

Sliding his hands down her abdomen, he looks down, turned on by the way he shimmers in her moisture and his thumb comes to her clit, rubbing slowly.

Her ass bucks off the table, her head thrashing as he applies more pressure, needing to feel her walls tighten around him.

She whimpers and mews, and in an instant he watches the wave roll over her as all her muscles tighten and she begins to shake and convulse.

"Fuck, oh God" she cries out and he's done for.

Three more thrusts and he buries himself inside of her, his own orgasm colliding with hers as they trembled, their sweat slick skinned fused as one.

"I don't want to move" he teases playfully after a few long moments.

Looking at the clock she sighs, "We have to, this is dangerous enough"

"And worth it?"

Their eyes meet and she narrows hers at him before pushing him off and grabbing her discarded shirt. Putting herself together she let him dress silently before she turned back, "Maybe"

Swatting her ass he followed her out of the interrogation room. As they walked towards the exit he let himself look back one more time, a wide smile spreading across his face, after fourteen years of imagining it, fuck yes it was worth it.


	3. The Scene of the Crime

**A/N: This is a prequel to 9 Crimes. Mature. You have been warned. **

"You left. Without one word Elliot, without one goddamned word, you don't get to just sit on my stoop, follow me up to my apartment with those puppy dog eyes and act like we can just go back to being Benson and Stabler"

She spits it out at him, hot acid on her tongue burning like fire against his skin. His mouth flails for a moment, tries to find the words to explain. But he can't, not when he looks in her cappuccino colored eyes and sees the brokenness, the pain he's inflicted. He had never meant to hurt her, that much is true, but he couldn't face looking at her after Jenna. He couldn't subject himself to the pain of feeling like he let her down. So he ran, so far away he could barely find himself, and yet, one look in her eyes and he's home again.

"Liv…I'm sorry"

OoO

The words nearly break her, crack the dam inside of her that's been bursting at the seams since the day she realized he was walking away.

"_We're partners, for better or worse…better or worse…better or worse" _

It's the words that echo through her brain on quiet nights. It doesn't inspire the body wracked sobs his leaving induced but the silent cries that feel like a sharp blade through taut flesh. She's spent so many nights, in bed, two ears full of tears, willing her body to forget…to fall asleep for a moment but he's still there, in her dreams, all around her, inside of her.

A part of her hates it, the way they are so intricately bound to each other; that he resides so deep inside of her she can't quite shake him from her system. She wondered if it would always be that way, and she thought there was some escaping…loving a stranger, letting herself imagine a life with him, a future without Elliot Stabler. When it imploded, it was as if her house of cards all came tumbling down and she was forced to accept how ingrained in her he had always been.

It was never a choice, not consciously, but it had been there from the first moments, like the invisible red string that ties two people together.

OoO

He's not expecting the swing, and it throws him off balance for a moment, and he allows her fists to pound at his chest for a couple long moments before he grabs her biceps and pulls her back to look at her.

"Don't tell me you're sorry" she cries out, "Don't"

There is a raw, brokenness in her words…her eyes. And her lips are wet, flushed with fury, her eyes shimmering with anger and tears and all he wants to do is to make this better, make her understand, and that's when his mouth crashes on hers.

OoO

She can taste their tears mixing together on her lips, enveloped by the familiar cologne he wears, the taste of mint on his tongue. It takes her a few long moments to realize what is happening, to feel her fingernails dig into his skin as he steals the breath from her with his kiss. It's intoxicating, making her lightheaded, dizzy, her skin prickling with heat, her nerves lit like live wires.

Pushing him away she looks up at him, wide eyed, her hand coming to her mouth to touch at her bruised lips, "What the fuck are you doing"

He rubs at his jaw, his fingers trailing over his lips. He didn't really understand why he had done it…it was instinctual, like he was running on all cylinders and it was the only thing that made sense.

"I, fuck" he tries to get out.

Their eyes meet, and in an instant he's closing the short space between them, looking into her eyes for some sort of affirmation. There is anger, pain, sadness, and yet in the toffee swirls there is something that has him wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush to him.

It's not a soft kiss, not the romantic kind he's imagined before, where he sensuously suckles at her lips. This is born in pain, sadness, anger, and it dies in the need they have to consume each other with the gnashing of teeth, the struggle to possess, to control.

His hands aren't idle, after twelve fucking years of abstaining, of having to watch the way her backside curved in her slacks; he needs to touch her, to feel her, to make sure she's real. He wants to memorize her body with his fingertips, to imprint them on his brain, to know every slope and valley of her.

Her hands slide down his back, fingernails digging through the light cotton tee he has on, imprinting herself on him; like if he ever thinks of walking away again, she will remain on him the way he has on her.

OoO

It's wrong. Her brain is screaming it but her body and her heart betray her. She's loved this man, more than anyone, for years, quietly in the shadows but she's tired of being silent…she's tired of loving from a distance.

She sinks her nails into his skin and he groans into her mouth, grabbing her bottom lip between his teeth, rocking his hips against hers, his hardening length pushing at her. She wants him, she can no longer deny it…she wants him inside of her, all around her, stealing the very oxygen that keeps her alive.

Strong hands slide to her abdomen, slowly dancing up, her ribcage, to the swell of her breasts. He pulls back to look at her, searching her eyes "Tell me you want this"

The way he says it, the gentle rasp, all she can do is nod, pull his head down, his lips back on hers as his hand cups her breasts, his thumb swiping over her hardening nipple.

A moan escapes her throat and dies on his tongue and he roughly palms her breasts, massaging it, letting her nipple rub against his palm. He craves more, all of her, every inch of her skin sliding against his. Nimble fingers don't bother with popping buttons; instead he rips the sides of her button down, sending the small pieces spread across her living room floor.

He pulls it off of her, down her arms, tossing it across the room, reaching around her back to unclasp her bra, their mouths still connected, tongues still swirled and dueling.

The only reason he pulls away is because he needs to see her. He is the wandering man in the desert, aching for thirst, and she is his oasis. Her full breasts, golden toned, stand there for him, her nipples hard, deeply colored, and he wants to stare at her for hours, admiring the canvas of her body.

"Fucking beautiful" is all he can ground out before he is sinking to his knees, his mouth looming over her breast.

His tongue darts out to flick her nipple and she whimpers, her body curving into him, and he takes the nub between his lips, suckling, loving the way it's peak feels against his tongue. He bites, tugs, loving the way she mews, her fingers running down his scalp as he lavishes attention on her breasts. He doesn't pull back until they are both shimmering in his saliva, wet, hot, standing proudly at attention.

"Liv"

She shakes her head, "Don't talk" is all she says before her fingers are tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him. Her long fingers trail down his muscles, sliding down his skin, and it's too much, too intense, and he grabs her wrists.

They both know they can stop now; it's the point of no return. They can both put on their clothes, he can drive back across the city to Kathy, and they can pretend it never happened.

Both know they can't do that. Tonight there hadn't been a choice…there had never been one and it was too late to stop what had been set in motion years ago.

He pulls her to him, their bare chests pressed together, her nipples sliding down his skin and he roughly unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down around his ankles before hooking his thumbs into her waistband and pulling her slacks and panties down at the same time as she kicks them off.

Reaching around, he cups her ass, crashes his mouth to hers and raises her. His length slides against her slickened folds, teasing, rubbing, wetness sliding down him with every movement as his tongue plunges into her mouth.

The moment she bites down on his bottom lip he pins her to the wall and plunges inside of her in one long swoop. He settles there for a moment, feeling her twitch and clench around him. Her skin is flushed, glowing, and he looks at her, deeply into her eyes as he pulls out enough to thrust back into her.

Nails dig into his shoulders as he begins the quick paced plunging into her, pounding, slamming, the sound of their skin slapping filling the quiet room. Her fingernails dig into him, his teeth on her neck biting, suckling, marking her as he dives inside of her relentless.

Their bodies glisten with sweat, sliding against each other with each upward thrust. Her heels dig into his ass, the soft thud of her body against the wall, fueling his strokes, his fingers curled into her hips.

She's panting, whimpering as she clenches, and he can feel himself swell inside of her, needing release, needing to feel her explode around him. His fingers slide between them, to her clit, pinching, rubbing, so close to succumbing to the pleasure.

He can feel her tense, the strangled moan ripped from her throat as her body jerks and writhes, the orgasm ripping through her. It's then he allows himself to swell, his head thrown back, roaring as he spurts inside of her.

They are both breathless, panting, his forehead resting against hers, afraid of what happens next.

Finally she pushes against him, forcing him to part from her. Her eyes are wide, wild, and she looks away quickly, "You…go…now"

"Liv"

She grabs the clothing off the floor and moves towards the bedroom, attempting to cover herself. When she reaches the hallway she looks back at him, "This can't happen again"

But they both know she's lying.


	4. Damn Those Eyes

**A/N: Random one shot**

_Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise  
>I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you<br>Oh I don't love you but I always will_

_(Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars)  
><em>

Every time he closed his eyes, they were there, bright cappuccino colored orbs staring back at him, like some lighthouse beckoning his weathered boat back to the shore. It was those moments, right in the space between asleep and awake that he loved the most because in the midst of those dark iris', it was as if he had found some semblance of a peace he couldn't remember.

The problem lie in the hours he spent awake, studying faces of every stranger that walked by, wracking his forgotten memories for some glimpse of who owned them…consumed with the way the toffee colored swirled through the dark, so full of life, shining brightly as the stars in the sky.

He knew they weren't his wife's. No, hers were bright blue, sad in ways, and when he lay in bed next to her at night; he couldn't shake the foreign feel of her touch or the deep seeded ache for home.

OoO

She still checks her machine every night…a part of her still having hope that one day she would come home, see the light blinking red and that voice that haunted her dreams would float over the static connection.

Eight months and each day it was as if the boulder on her chest grew heavier, crushing the very will to breathe. Everyone had told her it would get easier but, it hadn't. Sure, there were days where she could go by a couple hours without thinking of him. Until she saw something…their favorite Chinese place, the ink spot on the desk that would always be his, and it was like everything came rushing back. The missing him was less physical than it was having someone there who could just look at her, and know.

Sighing she pours herself a glass of red wine and walks to the window looking out on the city below. She had lived here forever and could count the number of times she had done this. The truth was, it was never truly home for her…because her home was found in a precinct downtown, in a pair of blue eyes and strong, calloused hands that had put her back together, and broken her again.

OoO

For the rest of his life, even if he never regains his memories, he will remember that day. The sun shining bright, his toe haired son playing in the park while his wife and daughter chatted on a bench as she came around the bend, toffee hair in a ponytail, running shorts, sneakers and, he couldn't explain how, even before she looked up at him, opened those eyes, that he knew.

Time stood still, the voices, the commotion of the city dulled and all that existed was the beat of his heart against his ribcage and the sound of his own breath coming into spurts. His legs moved underneath him without thought or provocation, the mossy grass sticking to his shoes, the ache in his chest burst wide open, bleeding out, death and rebirth.

OoO

Elation and anger, it hits her like a freight train the moment she sees his face again and she's torn between throwing her arms around him or thrusting her fist into his face. Instead, she simply stands there, every nerve in her body lit like live wires, stuck to the spot, the strangled sob stuck somewhere between her heart and her throat.

"I know you"

It's the only thing he utters, standing in front of her, his eyes wide, filled with an open innocence that confuses her. It isn't until his hands come to cup her cheeks that she allows the tears to break free, to slide from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks.

_His hands bruise…his hands heal. _

"El"

OoO

A slight smile curves in the corners of her lips, and he hasn't blinked in fear she would disappear, that this feeling, the contentment that began to fill his lungs would subside and he would be back to flailing under water.

"Elliot" she repeats her hands coming over his, attempting to peel his fingers from her.

He shakes his head, "I've looked for you, everywhere, but I couldn't…all I could remember was your eyes" he tries to explain unsure of everything but that he doesn't want to stop touching her, looking at her, memorizing every curve and angle of her face.

There are voices in the distance, he hears them coming closer and he closes his eyes and tries to drown them out, to make them disappear, just give him another moment but then he feels her step to the side of him, grab his arm, "El"

Swallowing hard, he doesn't stop looking at her, staring in to her eyes. She's confused, her gaze darting between the two of them, her hands still over his, no longer trying to remove them, simply resting over them, tethering them.

OoO

The moment her eyes meet Kathy's, her heart falls into her running shoes because she knows that look…the guilt, the fear swirling in her eyes, "Olivia" she greets curtly wrapping her arms around herself protectively.

He pulls her eyes back to his, "I know you, don't I?"

"El"

"Liv"

It takes her breath away, one word, the way he says it, raspy, like it's his lifeline, "You don't remember?" she asks, her tears wetting his fingers that stay stuck to her skin.

"He has amnesia"

Neither looks at her, they simply stare at each other still, the implication of what she is saying shattering her heart, the pieces stabbing into her.

_Amnesia, amnesia, amnesia, amnesia. _

All those months…she had mourned him, thought he had simply walked away. There is a relief and a hot white anger that burns and her skin and she wants to turn and rage at the woman, yell, scream, cry, explain how these past months had been slowly killing her but instead she looks back into those eyes.

"I'm your partner"

OoO

His partner.

He had been a cop. He knew that much but the way she said partner, and the way he felt in this moment, it told him much more than her words could.

"Elliot" Kathy says again, hear hand grabbing at his bicep and he fights back the urge to shake her off but when he turns he meets the widened scared eyes of his son and he acquiesces and finally drops his hands. He feels empty the moment he does, like the invisible string that bound them together made his hands itch to reach out, to connect them again.

"I'll see you again" is all he can make come from his chest, the sob clenching his lungs, stealing his breath.

She nods, her eyes puddled with fresh tears, track marks marking her cheeks, "Okay"

OoO

The sky is black, the lights of the bustling city illuminating her apartment. She's had three glasses of wine, picked up the phone eight times to call his house in Queens, to find out what the fuck was going on, to hear his voice again.

Instead she sat in the dark apartment and swore she could still feel the rough pads of his fingers on her skin.

She knows his knock, something so simple, something she was never sure she'd hear again but it's as plain as day at two in the morning, scarred knuckles on the wood, pounding desperately.

Her hand is on the knob and swinging it open before she can think and he's standing there, his jaw tense, his red rimmed eyes feral, and when he moves towards her, it's all on instinct in the way his arms wrap around her, his leg kicking the door closed, pushing her up against the wall and crashing his mouth onto hers.

They've never touched inappropriately, hugged a handful of times, but, the way his mouth steals the very oxygen from her lungs is unlike anything she had ever felt with another.

His tongue slides between her lips, tangling with hers, exploring the caverns of her mouth, suckling at her lips, hands fisted in the strands of her hair and she wonders how she can feel alive and dead at the same time.

OoO

He doesn't know if they've done this before and if they haven't, he was a goddamn fool because this is the one thing that's felt right after his accident, the one feeling that came naturally and he doesn't want it to stop, wants to entwine their lips, their hands, their bodies as long as they both shall live.

Kathy had tried to explain, the doctors had told her to assimilate him slowly, first get him used to his family. He didn't care, he didn't want explanations, he wanted her.

It had taken him an hour to find someone at the Queens Police department to help him out but the green kid heard, "Stabler" and looked up her address for him. He spent the drive over trying to formulate what he would say to her but; there were no words for the moment when he met her eyes again.

When he pulls away they are breathless, panting, her lips bruised and he rests his forehead against hers, "Have we done this before?"

OoO

There is a vulnerable, naivety in the way he asks, slowly and she can't help the slight chuckle as she shakes her head against his, "No, no we don't"

She can feel the way he swallows, hard, "A damn shame" he mutters making both of them smile, "Gonna make up for lost time"

Before she can protest his hands are sliding down her arms, gripping her wrists, pulling them upwards to pin above them, against the wall. His muscular legs settle around hers, effectively pinning her as he searches her eyes. She should stop him, this is wrong but she fights back the tears and nods before he leans in to gently pull her lip in between his.

It's softer now, less frenzied, tangled lips, sweet breathless kisses, his hardness pressing against her, his hips slowly circling to push it against her core. She's burning, from the inside out, a delicious kind of fire, consuming, filling, sin and salvation.

OoO

Releasing her wrists, he slides down her long limber arms, feeling every groove, muscle, wanting to make a map of every scar, every freckle but, he has time for that later, right now he just needs to feel every inch of her warm skin pressed against his.

Nimble fingers play at the hem of her shirt, let his touch linger where it had ridden up exposing her soft, yet firm torso, he wanted to go painfully slowly and blissfully fast, to feel consumed, enveloped. Softly, he peels up her shirt, her arms raising to let him bring it over her head, tossing it to the side.

There is no bra restricting her breasts, and he takes a moment to admire the way her nipples pebble, the fullness of her breasts, the valley in between. She's gorgeous, breathtakingly so and his eyes drink her in and he licks his lips before his mouth moves to pull the bud in between his lips, swirl his tongue, mark her flesh.

Her arms wrap around his head, pulling him closer, moaning, whimpering, "El"

It's the breathless way she utters it, her fingernails raking down his scalp that will be the death of him.

OoO

His hands are all over her, his mouth suckling at her flesh, and she's quite certain the right thing to do would be to stop this but after losing him, mourning him, she knows she can't…whatever this is, it's the most right thing in a world of wrong.

Fingers toy at her waistband and he slowly pulls her yoga pants down over her thighs, his teeth sinking into her nipple, blue eyes shining up at her. She feels vulnerable with him, burst wide open, and she is surprisingly unashamed. They've trusted each other for years, but ran when things got too close…too deep...tonight she's tired of running, of fighting the one thing that has always felt so natural.

"Liv" he whispers against her in almost reverence.

Lifting her feet she allows him to remove the pants, completely naked in front of him, his eyes roving over her, "So fucking beautiful"

OoO

The tears slip from his eyes and he can't help but be overcome with the emotion. He hadn't made love to his wife, the one time she had tried to touch him, he recoiled, the physicality too overwhelming, uncomfortable.

This, whatever it was with this woman, it was as necessary as breathing and he wanted to be bound with her in every way possible.

His hands slide in between her thighs, parting them, opening her up to reveal her core. One hand hooks under her leg, throwing it over his shoulder, fingers coming to part her sex before his tongue snakes out to run along it.

Her taste intoxicates, and he wants to bury his face into her, breathe her in, devour her. His lips pull her flesh into his mouth, suckling, drinking, his tongue sliding through her folds, flicking her clit. Her back hits the wall behind her with every jerk and twitch, her leg wrapping around his neck, her hands tugging his ears to pull him closer.

Taking her clit between his lips, he sucks hearing the way she cries out when he does, feeling her throb on his tongue, her heartbeat echoing off the roof of his mouth as her body clenches, twitches, and his mouth is flooded with her essence.

She slumps slightly, panting and he pulls away, rising up, their eyes meeting again and he licks her lips, pulls her to him, hands under her ass, legs wrapping around his waist and carries her towards the back of the apartment. He's not sure how he knows where her bedroom is, but before he can think they are entering, tangled limbs as they fall to her bed.

He wants to laugh, to cry out, his chest bursting with a happiness he wasn't accustomed.

"El"

His fingers come to her lips and he shakes his head, "It's gonna be okay, now, now it's gonna be okay"

OoO

The way he says it, full of conviction makes her lose her breath for a moment. The trust she has always had in him was unexplainable to anyone else, always there, the one thing she could be sure of.

She still is.

He pulls the shirt off and she lets her eyes linger on his chest, how she knows the marks, the muscles, so familiar yet so uncharted. Her hand comes to rest, over his heart, and she can feel the familiar frantic rhythm that her own heart pulses at.

His jeans fall to her floor, and he is naked before her, his length bobbing against his abdomen as he turns into her, his hand coming to her face, pulling her in to kiss her.

"It's you" he whispers pulling her to him, "You were the only thing I remembered"

OoO

In that moment she realized how possible it was for a heart to feel full and broken at the same time and as he pulled her to him, his hardness sliding against her wetness, teasing she knew it was always supposed to come to this.

He slides inside of her slowly, burying himself, stilling, twitching as her velvet walls encase him, sure that if he died in this moment, he would know what complete was.

Gently he pulls out, before sliding back into her, pushing, thrusting, deep, smooth, her nails biting into his skin, their mouths fused together.

His pace increases, his ass clenching as he thrusts, her moans getting louder, dying on his tongue, their slickened skin sliding along each other.

When she clenches, he buries himself, holding her twitching body against his, feeling the orgasm ripple through her, wave upon wave washing over him as he begins to coat her insides.

Their foreheads rest together, soft inside of her and he nudges her nose so that her eyes open to meet his and he knows that he's finally found home again.


	5. Anchor

**A/N: This is sequel to, "God Damn Those Eyes." What the muse wants, the muse gets. **

**Six Months Later**

_I know that I'll never be alone  
>you will never let me go<br>you are my anchor  
>hold my hand<br>while I'm sinking in the sand  
>no one else could understand<em>

_(Anchor – Lifehouse)_

"Good morning beautiful"

He whispers it at the nape of her neck, hot breath, prickly stubble dancing along her naked skin. She sighed, feeling the way his body curved protectively around her…her safe place, her armor.

"Morning" she murmurs back sleepily still not sure this isn't some dream she is going to wake up from, stuck in bed alone, that boulder crushing her lungs once again.

A kiss is placed on her temple, "I can hear you thinking"

Bastard doesn't have his memories back and still can read her like an open book he's thumbed through a thousand times.

"I love you Liv, no matter what, I love YOU" he annunciates the last word, letting it coat her skin like warm honey.

Closing her eyes she allows herself to get lost in the heat of his skin, the warmth he brings to her chilled bones, and she tries not to think about what happens if those lost memories come back, if he suddenly remembers the life he lived before this moment.

OoO

She's scared to lose him. She doesn't say it, but she doesn't need to. They can read each other; it was surreal to him at first, how she simply got him in a way that no one had since the accident. Looking into her eyes had been a homecoming, a rebirth of sorts and he couldn't fathom that any memory of the life he had before her could change that.

The truth was that for months after his accident, it was like walking dead. He felt nothing, darkness seeping into his skin, blood running like molasses through his veins every moment until he closed his eyes at night…until he allowed those orbs to come into view, center him, make him believe it wasn't the end.

It had been six months since that night…since the first time he touched her, laid hands upon her, claimed her as his own. She had tried to send him home that night as they raged together, cried together, came together again.

"_Go home Elliot, please, just go home"_

_If he hadn't been looking into her eyes, seeing the amount of pain that filled them he would have been hurt. Instead he's angry, they've found each other. In a city of eight million pairs of eyes, he had found her again, and there was no way in hell he was letting her go. _

_His jaw clenches, fists balled up at his sides, "You mean the house in Queens? Cause, that's not home. Every time I'm there, I'm crawling out of my skin, everyone looking at me like some caged up zoo attraction. That's not a home Liv, a home is somewhere you feel at peace, where you feel you can rest your head…and the first time since I woke up in the hospital, I feel home, with you"_

_Tears escape her eyes and he steps forward grasping her arms gently, pulling her to him, resting his forehead against hers, "Please"_

"_I just don't want you to regret me…this" she lets choke out. _

_He doesn't know how he understands the depth of what she's saying, how he can understand things she hasn't told him about herself but it clenches his heart and he feels his own eyes pool with tears. His hands slide up her arms to cup her face, swiping the tears with his thumbs, "I will never regret you, no memory can ever make me regret this"_

His fingers hook in the waistband of the NYPD sweats she wears slowly sliding them down her thighs, over her calves, pulling them off to toss across the room. His mouth touches her ankle and he can hear sigh as he begins to pepper kisses up her long bronzed legs. She's beautiful, it's undeniable, but it's so much more than physical, them together is akin to a religious experience, she is his salvation.

Gently he kisses up her thighs, across her hips, pushing the shirt up as he continues to paint her curves with his lips, stripping the tank over her head, leaving her bare for him. Her breasts are full, heavy in his hands and he leans down to pull the nipple between his lips, suckling gently, swirling his tongue over the pebbled nub until her nails are raking down his shorn head, scratching his scalp encouragingly.

Quickly he rids himself of his own pajama pants, making her whimper as he pulls away from bathing her nipple with his tongue, and grabs his length pointing it to her and pushing in with one long stroke. He buries himself, lost in the feel of her velvet walls clenching at him, a perfect fit, like two connecting puzzle pieces.

Slowly he begins to move inside of her, his hands snaking around her to pinch at her nipples, caress her breasts as he fills her, long, deep strokes, going almost torturously slow, his tongue and mouth running over her neck, kissing her shoulders.

"El" she moans and he knows what she needs as he begins to thrust harder, faster, their skins slapping together as he consumes her, her body arching to meet his, match the way he pumps inside of her.

She whimpers, moans as the orgasm ripples through her and he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels himself swell and coat her insides.

They both pant, breathless and he kisses the spot behind her ear and smiles, soft inside of her, "I love you Olivia"

OoO

His head throbs from the moment he slips out of bed. It's on his way to the kitchen that the barrage begins.

_No, I wouldn't have. Did you really expect me to? Did you really expect me to cause your death, Elliot? What about your kids? What about me?_

He grasps at his forehead beginning to stumble, trying to find the couch under his clouded vision.

_You and this job are about the only things I've got anymore. I don't want to wreck that._

_I'd give you a kidney._

_If you can't trust your partner, Elliot, it's time to get a new one__._

_I sure as hell wouldn't drive all the way to Queens just to save you ass._

They come in rapid succession, like bullets to the chest and he can't breathe, his eyes blurred and he tries to focus, to see those cappuccino colored orbs as the blinding light consumes him.

_Look, we both chose each other over the job. We can never let that happen again. Otherwise... we can't be partners._

_Maybe God just remembered how cute you were as a carrot._

_You're the longest relationship I've ever had with a man._

As his legs faltered it was like an outer body experience, watching his body fall as the darkness overwhelmed him, "Liv" falling from his lips like a sinner's prayer.

OoO

Her eyebrows furrow together the moment she steps out of the shower. She doesn't smell coffee, doesn't hear the buzz of the morning program. It's their routine but something feels off, like her world is tilting on the wrong side of the axis.

The moment she sees him on the floor, his body seizing, blue eyes rolled back in his head, she feels the terror course through her body and she practically dives down next to his side, "El, El, please" she begs grabbing his hand, reaching around for the house phone, trying to remember all the things she learned about emergency situations and faltering as she dials 911 practically sobbing in the operator's ear.

Numb…she feels nothing as she paces the hallways of the hospital. Kathy is there, still on record as his next of kin…still his wife. They don't speak but look at each other with the same kind of sadness. Its hours before they know anything of substance and then the doctor comes out and her world fades to shades of gray, "He's awake…and he's regained his memories"

OoO

His eyes blink rapidly, the nurse shining the light in them, "Welcome back Mr. Stabler" she says with a cheerful smile as she sticks a straw to his lips.

He doesn't realize how thirsty he is until he is sucking the cool liquid down his parched throat. He remembers…_everything. _

And he hates himself for it because the only thing he wants in that moment is the touch of her skin, for her to slide next to him and curl into his side like she was made to fit there.

"Your wife is outside, would you like to see her?"

Before he can think he's offering a terse shake of the head and the nurse nods understandingly and leaves the room. Running his hands over his face he fights the dread that fills him…she's going to run…and he has to stop her.

OoO

She lost him once and it almost broke her; she's not sure how to do it again this time. Not when her apartment smells like him, his sweats still on the floor of the bedroom, his coffee mug sitting next to hers on the shelf.

Sliding under the sheets they picked out she lets her hand run along the side he's claimed, the phantom pain of what she's lost pulling the sob from her gut.

OoO

Its three days before they'll release him. His wife had come in the first night, the sun dipping behind the trees and she looked at him and knew. There was some comfort in that; that they both accepted they had been living on the fumes of the life they thought they would have.

Olivia wouldn't answer his calls, and, more than once, he had tried to rip the IV from his arms and get to her but he knew that showing up and collapsing at her door step was probably not the wisest option. So he waited, called her, left her messages…some sad, some angry, some begging. He knew her well enough to know she probably hadn't listened, decided to fall on her own sword, walk away and make his decision easy.

OoO

It's the simple things, like the way she can feel his presence before his fist ever hits the door and she's not sure she's ready but she plasters on a pained smile and swings it open, "Hey" she answers trying her best to swallow the bile that rises in her throat.

OoO

He almost loses it at the way she says it, like they hadn't made love on that couch days before, like he didn't know where every scar and birthmark was on her body…like he hadn't been made to fit inside of her.

"Liv"

Waving her hand she avoids his eyes, "It's okay, I'm okay"

And he knows this is her version of running this time, of releasing him from the burden of herself and it crushes every inch of his heart and his legs move underneath him, arms wrapping around her tightly. She resists, pushing back, kicking her legs as his lips come to her ear, "I remember everything Liv" he whispers harshly, "Everything"

She stills against him, "El"

"I don't want to remember some of it" he whispers his own tears staining her shoulder, "Jenna, Gitano, you leaving…me walking away but the worst ones…they haven't happened yet because they're the thoughts of letting you go…of going back to some life I don't want anymore"

"El"

It's pained, a beg for mercy, but he's not letting her go…it's impossible now, even if he knew it mean impending death he'd hold onto her until his last breath, "It's you" he tells her harshly, "Fuck, it's you, don't tell me you don't feel it"

OoO

Her body goes limp in his arms, the struggle, the fight gone and she can't lie to him, even if she thinks it would spare him the pain they will go through later.

His mouth is on her neck, soft kisses, open, wet mouthed laid all over her skin and she's powerless against it, their connection overshadowing everything and when he turns her flush to him she can't help but look up into his eyes. They have deepened to a stunning cobalt shade, shimmering with unshed tears and she crashes her mouth upon his, winds her arms around his neck and she holds onto him because he is her anchor…he always has been.


	6. Love is Not a Victory March

**A/N: Part 1 of 2. No sexy tiems in this one, and the angst factor is high. **

She wonders if it's possible to ever unlove someone; to evict them from those permanent residences in your heart, to eradicate them from your memory bank like they never existed at all.

Then she contemplates even making that decision; if she would take away the years she felt whole to get rid of this throbbing ache in her chest.

The answer is usually no, especially on a night she's being honest, one where the sobs burst from her gut as real and hard as the day she watched him walk away.

She used to tell herself she would stop crying tomorrow…that she'd wake up and wouldn't feel maimed. Every time she said it, she knew she was lying. Sobs became trickles, tears puddled in her eyes at the sight of his mini badge hooked to her gun or in the smooth grooves of the Semper Fi medal that hung in her jewelry box.

It wasn't a conscious decision to love him. She had much more self-preservation than to choose falling in love with a man who was already someone else's. But, the love was always there, a slow hum at the beginning, a tragic concerto at the end.

There were spaces he had filled between each inhale and exhale, cracks in her that had been beyond repair. With him she was safe, protected, _complete._

Now he was a phantom limb, and the pains from him leaving tingled at her senses. She had tried to bury it, move on. She found another, someone who made her comfortably numb for awhile…who had lessened the pain enough that she could breathe without feeling the boulder bearing down on her lungs.

He was gone now too, and she knew it should hurt more but she was already broken at the beginning, he was merely just another crack in her already shattered façade.

OoO

"Forgive me father for I have sinned"

It's a mantra he knows well, countless times he's been in that box confessing.. He doesn't go in there anymore, figures there's not much use, he's already on the fast track to hell.

So, the incomplete feeling of her absence, the way it lingers and creeps up his spine is just another thing to add to the list of things he's royally fucked up in his life.

They had never crossed the line of impropriety; instead they perched right against it, as tightly as they could without every stepping over. He can't say it was romantic in the traditional sense, their relationship was a quagmire like that…always teetering on the edge of everything: love, friendship, fidelity, honor.

All he does know is that without her, he's walking wounded because no matter how hard he tries to be a better husband, a full time father, he's no longer her partner…and it's the only place he ever felt like he belonged.

OoO

His name is Daniel.

It's been six dates, two months, and she likes him, _really likes him_. He's a firefighter, he understands the stress and demands of her job, admires her dedication to the vics, they laugh at the same jokes…and she thinks, for a moment, she could be happy with this. That she doesn't need vibrant intensity, her guts twisted in confusion, living in the muddled lines between black and white, wrong and right.

Amaro remarks that she looks happier, gives her a cheeky smile and teases her about her new beau, Finn seems to be more at ease dancing around the eggshells and her tiptoes. It's Rollins who she finds looking at her one day, her eyebrows quirked, studying.

"What?" she snaps.

The younger woman looks away, embarrassed, shrugging it off…and turns to file her paperwork but there's an understanding in the glance…a secret knowledge between them that every utterance of, "My old partner" is steeped in murky water and diamonds.

When Daniel is in her bed, she fights the urge to close her eyes, forces herself to look at him because she knows the moment her eyelashes touch her cheeks…it's going to be blue eyes instead of green, and she's afraid of the day his name tumbles off her lips.

OoO

Her hand slides up his chest, and he fights back the urge to grab her wrist, pull away. He had excuses before…the job getting to him, stress, the vics…now, he doesn't know how to explain why her touch sets him on edge.

To admit would be to accept that it's another woman's hand he pictures on his skin; one he's only known intimately in the darkest of his dreams and fantasies. So he closes his eyes, he lets her fingertips dance on his chest, and he promises this is the last time he's going to picture cappuccino colored eyes, iris' darker than night.

OoO

She should have known. She's been on edge all week, blamed the case, took it out on a perp's face, got sent home with another slip in her jacket. Her fingertips trace the rim of her wine glass as Daniel creates idle chit chat over dinner. She can't focus, lights too bright, colors swirled, the smell of the food making her stomach turn.

Then she feels it.

_Feels him walk through the door. _

The moment their eyes meet she fights back the bile that stings at her throat and she excuses herself, hands hitting the back exit, the cool rush of wind stinging her face, gasping for air, the intake burning her lungs.

It wasn't how she expected it to happen, that icy cool demeanor she hoped to envelope herself with had dissipated by one single look, by the way his cobalt eyes still pierced through her soul.

Her palms are on the brick wall, her eyes locked on the asphalt below, barely feeling the cold rain start to hit her back like rapid gunfire. She feels him before she hears him, the goosebumps creeping up her spine, "Liv"

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

OoO

He left Kathy standing in the doorway, his legs moving across the room, giving chase before he could think…that's how it was with her, all on instinct, without a second thought.

They are the same eyes he looked in for 13 years…the same mocha colored orbs with swirls of toffee…but there is a sadness, a resignation in them that there hadn't been before.

_And it's because of him. _

It's going to be a festering wound for awhile; strands of sadness he will pull apart to torture himself with on the nights he cannot sleep because every time he closes his eyes she's there.

"Don't" she whispers harshly, and he's numb and the rain is soaking through his shirt, and he needs her to know but there aren't words to say what he feels…and that's how it happens, without thought of consequence, without thought of anything but needing her to know.

In an instant her face is cupped in his hands, both their eyes shimmering with unshed tears, brimming, boiling, the rain staining their skin, cleansing them, washing all their sins away.

Their mouths crash together, lightning and thunder…satin and lace, suckling lips, gnashing of teeth, a raging storm, unbridled, healing and destroying.

Her back hits the brick wall, the expanse of him, his brilliant muscles melding into the softness of her curves, interlocked, connected, uncertain of where one began and the other ends.

The brilliant shock of light is what parts them, wide eyed, bruised lips, clothes sticking to their skin, "Liv" he whispers, hovering over her, breathing the warm hair that she exhales.

Shaking her head she pushes past him, away from the restaurant, out of the alleyway and he doesn't have the strength to chase her, his head landing onto the cold wet stone in front of him; knowing the wall they had carefully constructed was now torn asunder…to either be rebuilt or washed away forever.


	7. Cold and Broken Hallelujah

**A/N: Tis the sequel to, "Love is Not a Victory March." There are sexy tiems, you have been warned. **

"Do you love him?"

His voice comes as a surprise, her key already turning in the lock and she pauses momentarily before slowly turning to meet his steely blue gaze.

"What?" she asks eyes narrowed at him, her skin prickling, the memory of their kiss imprinted on her tongue.

He stalks towards her, the familiarity of his footsteps now an annoyance instead of comfort, "Does he make you happy"

"Go to hell"

Before he can even process it he's following her into the door of her apartment as she attempts to swing it shut on him. She spins around, her eyes darkened, narrowed, "Get out of my apartment Elliot"

"No"

The careful line they had constructed over thirteen years had crumbled in that alley and he knew there was no going back this time. Now he has the choice to fight to create something from the ruins or grind it to dust and let it slip through his fingers.

OoO

Her blood courses through her veins, flushing her skin, her fists curled at her sides, "You can't just show up here after months, kiss me in the middle of my date and expect me to just welcome you with open arms"

She watches his mouth flail and she continues, her words striking his skin like acid, "Do I love him? There are things I love about him. I love that he's not married, that he wants a future with me, that he talks about taking vacations in Connecticut, how he effortlessly grabs my hand as we walk through a crowd, how he doesn't drive me so fucking insane that I can't breathe or think"

"Liv"

The dam has broken and the river rages and she can't stop the words, thirteen years of love and hate bursting forth and enveloping them, "So are you asking if I love him, or if I love him more than I love you? Because, let me tell you, I'm happy, he makes me happy…he loves me, and yet every moment I'm with him, I wish it were you, _how fucked up is that?_"

There are tears falling down her face, the last syllable hanging in the air between them and all he wants to do is take her in his arms, swipe the tears and tell her it's going to be okay…_he's going to fix them._

A deep escapes her chest, "Go Elliot, just go"

But he doesn't move, he simply stands there, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She steps forward, hands on his chest and pushes, "Go"

He grabs her wrists, gently enough to restrain without hurting her, "Liv"

"Go, damn it, leave" her fists slap against his chest and he's letting her blows hit him, trying to feel something other than the way his heart is limping to beat in his chest.

When she slows, her eyes lift up to meet his and it's unstoppable, the way his mouth leans in to crash upon hers, the gnashing of teeth, suckling of lips, her arms coming around him as his wind in her hair, their bodies pressed flushed…hard and soft, cold and warm.

OoO

The kiss is hard, their tongues dueling for control, her hands sliding under his jacket, their bodies melding together as one. He backs her over towards the couch, the backs of her knees hitting the armrest as she pulls away, "We can't" she says panting and shaking her head.

"Liv"

This is the point of no return, they both know it. Anything beyond this point will propel or destroy but he can't turn back. He can no longer forget the way her body feels pressed against him, the shape of her tongue, the satin of her lips between his teeth.

"Tell me to stop" he whispers.

OoO

There is a flicker in his eyes, when they deepen to cobalt and she swallows hard, knowing she should tell him to get the fuck out of her apartment, lose her number, ignore her like he did all those months before this. But she's can't.

This love, it might be wrong, but it's all she knows. The highs, the lows, the intense way it consumes them both, it's like nothing she has ever felt before, and in her heart she realized long ago she would follow him into hell if that's where he chose to go.

Her legs wrap around him and pull him closer and she watches his Adam's apple bob as he licks his lips and leans down to kiss her again.

It's softer this time, a gentle graze at first, slow, exploratory, wanting to savor the way she tastes at this very moment, when the words were no longer needed to show each other exactly what they both had realized long ago.

Fingertips play at the hem of her shirt, before his hand is grazing the exposed patch of skin where it had ridden up, hot flesh searing the rough pads of his fingers, and he knows that he will never forget that first touch.

Slowly he slides up, hearing her soft moan die in his throat, their tongues sliding together, as his hand reaches her ribcage, his thumb slipping gently on the underside of her breast pushing upwards until it's swiping over her hardened nipple.

OoO

She almost wishes she wasn't as affected by his touch, by his kiss, because she can feel herself throbbing from the minimal contact they've shared. When his finger grazes her nipple she arches, whimpers into his mouth, and then she feels his hand close around her.

Her legs instinctually wrap around his, pulling him closer, needing more, her mouth sliding from his down to his throat, suckling over the hollow as he begins to caress and massage her breast through her bra.

OoO

Pulling back he looks at her, and her own hands come to the hem of her shirt and she pulls it over her head, reaching behind to unsnap her bra. His own hands meet hers, pulling it slowly away from her, letting inch by inch be revealed to him.

It's as if he's been wandering in the desert for thirteen years and stumbling onto an oasis. His eyes drink her in, her nipples are swollen, richly colored, and he leans down, holding one in his hand and bringing his mouth around it. His lips close around the areola and he sucks long and slow until just the nub is between his lips.

Her hands slide to his head, nails raking down his scalp and he continues to suckle and tug gently at the swollen pebbled buds, alternating between the two until they are both shining in his saliva and sharp.

OoO

His mouth, his hands, the feel of his body this closer to her is close to driving her insane, she wants more, needs more, "El"

When he pulls away his eyes are glazed with lust, wide and locked on her, "Please" is all she is able to whimper out.

Large hands reach under her ass and he's pulling her around him, legs wrapped around his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, their mouths crashing together as he moves through the apartment to the back bedroom.

They stumble through the door and he gently places her down on the bed, ripping his jacket off, pulling his shirt over his head, and then coming over her, chest to chest, nose to nose.

The first touch is electric and her hands fumble to the button on his jeans and she pulls unsnapping, thrusting them down over his hips, his own hand helping to push them down his legs, his free hand coming to her pants, slowly tugging them down. He pulls back, clad in black boxer briefs, and he lets his eyes rove over her, the flushed skin, her chest rising and falling, lips bruised from kissing and he's not sure he's ever laid eyes on anything more beautiful.

His thumbs hook in the waistband of her panties and he pulls them down her long bronzed legs, standing with his knees touching the bed as he pulls his own boxers down, painfully hard.

OoO

He's built like a Greek god, like one of those sculptures she's seen in art history books and she wraps her legs around the backs of his thighs and pulls her back down to him. She can feel herself dripping, pulsing as their bodies touch. His eyes meet hers, and she can feel him prodding at her entrance, pushing inside of her.

_Coming home. _

OoO

The moment she encases him, he stills himself, just enjoying the way she clenches around him, the heat radiating through his cold and weary bones. Their eyes are still locked on each other, cobalt and cappuccino, and he leans in to kiss her gently as he begins to move inside of her.

He's torn by the urge to dive inside of her and the part of him that want this to last as long as possible…_because if this is the last time…_

It's slow and deep, each stroke meaning something, the words of his mouth and the meditations of his heart, pushed inside of her with everything he hasn't found the will to reveal.

Her hands slide down his back, her legs locked around him pulling him in, and he holds onto her so tightly like he's afraid if he loosens his grip, this will be another dream that he wakes up in a sheen full of sweat alone in the guest room.

Their bodies move together in a staccato rhythm, synchronized breathing, hearts beating together, every thrust matched by her arching into him, a perfected dance of two puzzle pieces coming back together.

Whimpers die in his mouth, on his neck, and she can tell she's close and he needs it, he needs to feel her shudder and shake under him, against him, "El" she whispers and then she cries out, clenching on him, spurring his own release deep in her.

After he rests against her, face buried in her neck, close to tears, "I love you Olivia" he whispers knowing it's the only promise he can make right now.

OoO

She swallows hard, feeling him stain her thighs…permeate her soul and she mouths the words, "I love you too"


	8. We Are Broken

**A/N: I don't even know where this came from. I was lying in bed one night and I had this scene in my head, and welp. **

_So why do you fill my sorrow  
>With the words you've borrowed<br>From the only place you've known  
>And why do you sing Hallelujah<br>If it means nothing to you  
>Why do you sing with me at all?<em>

**Delicate – Damien Rice**

"I don't even know why the fuck I came here" she spits out, pivoting on her heel and turning towards the door.

Her hand hits the handle and his voice, gravely and husky pours over her like warm honey, "I don't know, you tell me, why did you come here Olivia?" he taunts.

She turns back to him. She knows why she came, why she would always come when he called but they don't say those things out loud. As her eyes narrow she crosses her arms across her chest and looks at him. The stubble mars his usually smooth face, like a mask he uses to mock her…to remind her of who he no longer believes he is.

"Fuck you Elliot"

His footsteps thud along the linoleum floor as he stalks towards her and she steadies herself, puffs out her chest and glares at him, neither backing down. If he is a hurricane, then she is a tidal wave and there is no way in hell she'll ever let herself flinch in front of him.

They stand inches apart, him looming over her like he's done suspects a countless number of times, his attempt to intimidate falling on deaf ears, "Come on Liv, tell me why you came"

Their gazes are locked, the heaving of their chests making them almost touch, and she tugs her lip between her teeth, "You're my partner"

"Not anymore" he whispers raggedly and she knows he's picking at the wound, seeing how much it takes until she's bleeding too. She closes her eyes when his hands come to her wrists, gripping lightly, leaning in and bringing their bodies together, "Come on Liv, tell me why you came"

Her eyes snap open and his nose is brushing hers, cobalt eyes dark and cloudy, "Fuck you Elliot"

But it no longer has the resolve behind it. Now it's a ragged whisper, a plea because his touch makes her weak, in the same way his steel resolve bends , his thumb lightly running along her wrist, "Is that what you want?"

Then his mouth is on hers, and the kiss is rough, punishing, his tongue sliding hard against hers, tasting like whiskey, the hair on his face chaffing her skin. She pulls back, lips bruised from the way his teeth nip and pull, "Fuck you"

It's whimpered now, broken, and he licks his lips, pushes her into the wall and entwines their fingers, sliding her arms up against the wall, pinning them above her head. They are as physically close as two people can be fully clothed but he pushes his leg between her thighs because he aches for the nearness, to forget where he ends and she begins.

The way she moans in his mouth makes him growl, and the way her teeth sink into his neck make him lose all he control he was trying so hard to maintain "Olivia" he murmurs in her ear and he loosens the grip, her hands coming to his biceps, nails sinking in.

Fingers pop buttons, clothes pulled off in swishes, their mouths never full parting, the lifeline too precious to be broken. He picks her up effortlessly, long limbs wrapping around his strong waist. She's soft, he's hard and the juxtaposition of how she melds into his crevices has always been able to take her mind away.

He had been gone for two years before he called and there was whiskey on his breath, a sob in his throat and he cried that night, apologized, told her Kathy had left with Eli. A part of her hated that there was no hesitation as she left her date, drove all the way to Queens and found him three quarters of the way through a bottle of Jack.

It was under the black sky, no hint of stars that she understood the depths of her love for this man. Because she saw him in the gutter and didn't hesitate to crawl in there with him, wrap himself around him, hope that she could make him strong enough to pull himself out. With the strong burn of liquor on his lips, three day old stubble on his chin, they had come together the first time. It was a fumbling of limbs, hot wet mouths all over skin, painful and satisfying, the hurt in both of them stinging like acid on each other's bones.

She beat herself up about it for days after, until he called again, this time from some shitty pub, last call from the bartender. She told him to fuck off and not call her again, as she was grabbing her keys and heading out the door…because when he needed her, she would go…and hate herself in the morning for the weakness of cobalt blue eyes and rough pads of fingers.

They fall onto the bed, his mouth making trails across her collarbone, marking her collarbone with his teeth, and she feels him everywhere, the rush of blood hot in her veins as his fingertips and tongue memorize all her slopes and valleys.

There is no denying the intensity, every time, the way they fight to consume each other, to claim ownership, nails raked down backs, bruises from a finger's grip but this time he enters her slow and she feels the moisture of hot tears burning the back of her lids as she slams them shut.

_Fucking_, that's easy to explain away, there has always been a combustible energy between them. But when he's moving so slowly inside of her, hips rolling to bring their bodies together…she can't say it's anything less than a man making love to a woman.

And when he entwines their fingers, pushes her arms above her head and pins her there, his breath on her lips and whispers, "Open your eyes Olivia" she feels her stomach clench with words unsaid. But she does open them, cappuccino swirled eyes meeting stormy blue and he looks at her, "Why did you come Olivia" he asks stilling inside of her.

Her legs wrap around him, trying to pull him back in, make him thrust, make him stop looking at her like she's water in the desert but he stays firm, his large body pinning hers to the bed, "Tell me, just tell me"

Tears leak out of the corners of her eyes, "El" she manages to whimper.

"Fucking tell me"

He's tearing up, pools of water in his eyes and she wants to fix them, to heal them both but they're so broken. He begins to move again, closing his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, both of them moaning, the sound of skin and wetness filling the air.

Then she does it, her mouth on his ear, breath hot, "Because I fucking love you Elliot, because I love you"

His entire body tenses and he moves harder, deeper, her hips bucking off the bed to meet him and when she cums, he slides inside of her and lets go, slowly bringing himself down onto her. His lips come against hers, like the fluttering of a butterflies wings and his eyes are clamped shut but he whispers, softly, choking back the emotion that clogs his throat, "I love you too Liv, I love you so much"

They both know that's why she came, that's why he called…because as broken as they both are, they only feel whole together.


	9. Tell You So

**A/N: One-shot, just something that came to me after listening to this song. It's sent in the current time frame, minus the season finale. **

**No sexy times, sorry. Next one, promise. **

**I don't believe the things I say  
>About us when I'm drunk<br>And distance leaves a bitter taste  
>When you're gone, when you're gone<strong>

**(New York – The Boxer Rebellion)**

"_I wasn't in love with him" _

It's 3 am and she's almost through a bottle of cabernet when she decides it, lying on the couch, staring at that fucking picture of them. She can't remember when it was taken, the alcohol making everything hazy, the twelve years of memories mixing together like a tornado in a bottle.

"_Fuck him" _

She pushes the frame off the end table with her foot, shutting her eyes to ignore the moisture that pools, the sound of shattering glass ripping at her insides. He's gone, and she can't be in love with him, not when there's another man in her bed…not when he fucking walked away without even saying goodbye.

No, she can't be in love with him.

_Even if she still is. _

**I walk the line of great unknowns  
>But I never questioned us<strong>

**(New York – The Boxer Rebellion) **

His key slides into the door of the new place. The house in Queens has been sold, Kathy's across state lines in Jersey, and he's in a one bedroom in Brooklyn. He figures it doesn't matter where he lays his head at night because he never sleeps anymore and he hasn't been home in years.

Because long ago he realized that home was never the dwelling with the wooden fence, no, home was a feeling, a person, and the one place he ever felt home he can never go again.

When he lies in bed at night, he tries to conjure up her eyes, stares at the flecks of shiny plaster in the popcorn texture of the ceiling and remembers the way they shimmered when she'd smile, and sometimes, he can finally manage to sleep.

OoO

It's not the late nights in the precinct she misses him most. Although she once thought that would be the place. The way he'd place a cup of coffee over her shoulder and onto her desk, knowing she needed another, or look at her from across the pile of paperwork with raised brows and the same look in his eyes that she reflected.

No, it was the mornings she missed him the most. The getting out of bed and knowing that they'd be back together, Benson and Stabler, unstoppable.

_Until they weren't anymore. _

He had been her safety net, the soft place to land, and now it was like she'd been free falling from the Empire State Building and never really hitting the ground…just in limbo, permanently flailing.

The man next to her moves and turns to her side, she should be happy now…but she's not, and she's not quite sure she even knows what that is anymore.

OoO

"I had to talk to your old Cap"

Nodding, he looks down at his shoes and back up at the man, "Yeah, I figured" he says.

"He gave you a stellar review, I'm glad to have you here"

When he sits at the desk that's now his, he feels like he's coming out of his skin, because the ink splat on the left corner isn't there, and he can't look up and look at those eyes that beckoned him home. Lowering his head, he grabs the first pile of files_, he can't keep missing her like this. _

OoO

"Stabler's working in Brooklyn"

It captures the breath from her lungs and for a moment she can't fucking breathe but she nods, gives a terse smile, "That's great"

"He and Kathy split up"

The words strike her in places that haven't been touched in the years he's been gone because her first thought is, _"What happened, is he okay?" _

But it's not her place anymore…he doesn't need her.

That's the part that rips her apart, because he's completely moved on and she's still stuck running in place.

OoO

He's off his game. He knows it but he's trudging through the swamp that's become his life without his life raft and he's just trying to tread water. If he was with her, there would have been no doubt he wouldn't have ignored the feeling creeping up his spine as he knocked on the apartment door.

What actually happened is a blur but he's sitting at a kitchen table with a gun pointed at his head, a bloody wound on his leg and the man's non-shaking hand is barking orders into the walkie-talkie to his frantic partner, "I will fucking shoot him, are you fucking listening to me, I will paint the walls with his fucking brain" he yells into the receiver.

Swallowing hard he licks his dry lips and he thinks of his kids…and he thinks of her because if he dies tonight, there's no doubt who's face is going to be the last that he sees.

OoO

She's finishing up the last of the paperwork on her desk. Brian's talking to Munch at the door, waiting, and he shoots her a cocky smile and she forces one back, ignoring the dread that twists her gut.

"Cap" Rollins says, "The Captain from Brooklyn is on the phone, says there's a cop involved hostage situation, wants to know if we can send anyone"

_Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn. _

And she can't fucking breathe as she watches him pick up the phone, before slumping in his chair, and she knows, because she feels it. It's been there, all day, this feeling of being off, the frequency they run always in a similar rhythm…even now, even though he left her.

She loves him, she fucking loves him, and he has to be okay, because if he's not…she can't be either.

OoO

"I don't want to kill you" the younger man admits, "I don't want to kill you man"

His hand shakes, the barrel of the gun scraping his forehead and he looks up at him, meeting his brown eyes, "You don't have to, you're not past the point of no return, okay, just give me the gun, let me out of here. You can still fix your life"

Slowly he raises his hand to the kid's wrist and he nods, tears falling down his cheeks as he lets him take the gun out of his hand and he hopes he still has time to fix his own life.

OoO

"_Olivia, you can't"_

"_Fuck you Brian, get out of my way" _

No one could have stopped her, not when he's up there by himself, and she's waiting in between yellow lines, praying for a miracle. Cragen's there, she can feel him standing in back of her, like he's going to catch her if she crumples. Her knees shake and she's surprised she's still upright because it feels as if the earth is dissolving beneath.

Something happens, a flurry of activity, and she sees officer's running up the buildings stairs and his hands are on her arms, "Olivia, he's going to be okay"

They pull a man out, a kid really, tears on his cheeks, his head down and she's holding her breath, moisture pooled in her eyes and the deep sigh doesn't release until the moment he walks out and then two years of emotion rips from her throat and her legs shake as she almost falls to her knees.

Their eyes meet and she rips away from Cragen, and her legs are moving with provocation because all she knows is that anything between them doesn't matter right now because he's okay…_he's okay. _

OoO

He almost loses it when he meets those cappuccino colored eyes, and he can't help the tears that spill down his cheeks, because she came…and he's finally home again.

His arms open, limping to meet her, and she's in them, her body melding to his, it's been too long and there was never enough of her touch to truly sate the need that coursed through his veins since the day she walked into the one six. He inhales her, his chest heaving against hers, their tears mixing on skin like the cooling waters of baptism, their rebirth, and she lets out a sigh, her fingers digging into his jacket.

"I fucking hate you, don't ever do that to me again" she whispers against his skin, "I fucking hate you"

It rips him apart, the tenderness in her voice, the way it tears from her throat, "I love you Liv…I love you"


	10. Never Too Late

**A/N: So basically I wrote this while everyone on the East Coast was watching and I was watching reactions unfold. It's basically post the first part of the finale. **

**No sexy tiems obviously.**

_Oh I had a lot to say was thinking on my time away  
>I missed you and things weren't the same<em>

_Cause everything inside it never comes out right  
>And when I see you cry it makes me want to die<em>

_Every single day I think about how we came all this way  
>The sleepless nights and the tears you cried it's never too late to make it right<em>

_(Sorry – Buckcherry)_

He knows what dying feels like. When a bullet rips through your flesh and you can feel the warm drip of your blood into a puddle below you.

It's euphoric compared to this.

Slamming his eyes shut, he clenches his fists, nails digging so hard into his palms that there will be crescent marks for days after. The saltiness of the tears burns the backs of his eyelids but he refuses to let them fall down his cheeks because he doesn't deserve to cry, he doesn't deserve to have the guts ripped out and his insides strewn around the floor.

Because he failed her and it's the thing he will forever hate most about himself.

OoO

"_You still want him" _

The sleeping pill is chased by a long gulp of wine. She's halfway through the bottle but feels nothing. She decides the numbness is worse than the anxiety, because it chills her bones and everything that once forced her out of bed is gone.

Cassidy calls; comes and knocks on her door, banging his fist against the oak, and she's thankful she never gave him a key. The truth is; she's not the same person that she was before that day. She knows she never will be, Brian's nice, their time together was effortless, simple, but he can never be what she needs. She can no longer deny that truth.

Because the one person who can heal the hurt is the one who ripped her apart with his bare hands, without a single touch.

OoO

He slams his fists into the stucco on the side of the garage, scraps of paint splintering into his broken skin, blood pouring from his knuckles. The blood is rushing thick and hot in his veins and he knows if he doesn't find a way to release it, he's going to end up losing it on someone who doesn't deserve his rage.

Everywhere he turns he sees that bastard's face…the flashes of her are the worst because they haunt him until late in the night, where he pictures the worst of it, and the mix between hot white anger and self-loathing are lost in a bottom of a bottle.

Passing out is the only way he sleeps anymore, and even then, it's in fits, haunted by nightmares, the sounds of her screams waking him up.

Tonight he couldn't take it, and he spills out everything on the side of his house, praying that someday she can forgive him because he will never forgive himself.

OoO

Click, click, click

The apartment is dark, and the sound of the clock ticking fills all the empty spaces. All the frames are turned over, the ones of them together; because his face haunts her in her sleep and she'll be damned if she lets him do it while she's awake too.

"_Have you tried to reach out to him?"_

She had almost let a bitter laugh escape her lips at the shrink's question and then she cried in her car for ten minutes after the session because, yes she still wants him, she still fucking wants him and it makes her want to drive her car headfirst into a brick wall.

After all this time, it shouldn't still be him….yet a part of her knows, _it will always be him. _

OoO

His stomach churns, the rank coffee from this morning tossing with the acid in his stomach. He sits in his car for twenty minutes before he gets the nerve to even get out, and it takes him another ten of sweating palms and a half gnawed lip to get up the nerve to knock.

"Go away Brian"

He licks his lips at her words and he rests his head against the heavy door, "It's not Brian" he manages to whisper, strangled from his throat.

OoO

Her heart limps to beat in her chest and she swallows hard, staring at the door, her jaw tight, her stomach twisted in knots. She shakes her head; sure this is just her imagination fucking with her. Her mouth flails softly but no words come out and her hand trembles at her side.

"Liv, open up, please, I...just please"

There are the same deep timbers in his voice, the vibrato in his throat but there's something mixed in between the syllables…a broken melody that is intricately woven through both of them. Her feet move underneath her and her hand hits the handle and she rips at the three locks before yanking it open.

Their eyes meet for the first time in years and she fights back the rush of emotion that starts in her toes and makes every hair on her head tingle, "What are you doing here?" she asks, the ice in her tone hitting him like shards of glass.

OoO

He's been lost in her eyes since the moment he met her but they're different now…colder, no longer sparkling with the vibrancy of when they thought they could save the world. The sound of her voice strangled in her throat and spilled from her lips stabs at him.

It's not the exquisite pain of a sharp knife through taut muscle; it's like a billion little piercing stabs that will cause the tiniest of scars to remind him of his inadequacies for the rest of his life.

"I had to…I had to make sure" he manages to get out and then he's reaching out, without even thinking, because that's the only time they touch, when the emotions are too much to bear and they need that anchor, the strength that they find in each other.

It's just a hand on a cheek and she squeezes her eyes shut and trembles but she doesn't move, allowing his calloused palm on the satin of her cheek, "I had to make sure you were okay" falls from his lips and snaps them both in two.

OoO

His hand rests softly against her cheek, like he's scared of breaking her and she is torn between slapping his hand away and getting lost in the feel of his fingertips resting against her. Ultimately, it's the second one she chooses, because she's too fucking exhausted to act like this isn't exactly what she's been aching for.

Her arm rests at her side, slack, the will to fight him at the present moment is gone because the last time anyone besides a doctor touched her she was strapped to a chair, sure this was the end and all she could think about in that moment was how she would never see him again.

"I'm fine" she finally grinds out, pulling away from his touch that sears her skin, burns his fingerprints on her bones.

Their eyes meet again, his filled with puddles of unshed tears and his Adam's apple bobs with emotion and he shakes his head, "I should have been there to protect you" he whispers, and the lone tear falls down his cheek and she's pretty sure they're both splintering into millions of pieces on her hardwood floor.

OoO

The words fall from his lips without thinking them out and they strike her, and he watches as the tears in her eyes are replaced with fury and she spits back acid on him, "Is that what you're here for, that Catholic guilt" she asks, forcing a chuckle even as errant tears sting the corners of her eyes, "Because you're forgiven, now go"

Nerve endings crackle and the twitch in his jaw ticks and he swallows the sob and looks her dead in her eyes, "There's no forgiveness for me" he tells her, "Because I'll never forgive myself. I should have been there, I should have fucking had your back. He shouldn't have gotten to you, I should have protected you" he exclaims, each word accentuated and louder, the inward rage making his skin crawl and ache.

He can hear her intake of breath and he watches her tug her lip between her teeth and then it happens, the dam breaks, and the ice beings to thaw as the sob tears from her body and her arms hug around her and she's gasping for breath, curling inward, her sweater wet with salty tears and he does the only thing he can and grabs her, pulls him to her chest, her body rigid against him, racking with strangled cries until she finally relents.

OoO

Tension eases from her body and her arms wind around him because for right now, this is what she needs…he is what she needs.

He always has been…and inside, she knows he always will be.


	11. Last First Kiss

**A/N: Basically, this is kinda just a random stand alone without too much of a plot. EO has established a relationship after he left and came back, El is divorced, Liv is single. **

**This is for, Sarah501B, who wanted something a tad more…happy and fluffy, lol. It's not my usual forte but I hope you enjoy it! **

_What I'm trying to say  
>In my own simple way<br>Is I want you to be my last first kiss  
>I want you to be my last first kiss<em>

_My heart, yes it's finally found  
>My heart, yes it's finally found<br>Someone I can't live without_

_(Last First Kiss – Ron Pope)_

She feels like an idiot with eight different dresses laid out and her hands smoothing out the latest, a slinky black number with a sweetheart neckline and a back that the sales girl swore would show off the fact that she, _"obviously worked out."_

Blowing out a frustrated breath and shrugs; grabs the bronzer and dusts her cheeks before lining her eyes and coating her lips with a light gloss.

_It shouldn't be this hard_, she surmises. It's not a fucking typical first date, she's known him for over a decade, he's her partner, ex technically but he'll always be her partner, her best friend…but things have changed between them now, and as she sprays her neck and dabs her wrists with perfume, she knows that after tonight, things will never be the same.

OoO

His palms are sweating like a fucking teenager before prom and he wants to pace the small circle of his living room until all the nervous energy is dissipated but he knows he could run a marathon and the jitters would still be there creeping up his spine.

He hasn't been on a first real date since high school. Even when he and his wife were separated, there were drinks and coffees with other women but there were no romantic dinners at some overpriced restaurant in the city.

But she's not, another woman. She's _his_…his partner, his best friend, his Olivia, and he knows in his heart that this is the one that matters, she's the only one who's ever mattered.

OoO

When he opens the door to the restaurant she fights back the snarky response, the typical banter that runs so easily between them and instead just arches her eyebrow and he smirks in response, knowing that the words aren't necessary. They run on the same rhythm, their frequencies flowing from the same energy.

It's dimly lit, white tablecloths and more silverware than necessary, and she bites her lip, her heart clenching knowing that he went through so much effort…_for her_.

Their reservation is called and he pulls out her chair and she feels giddy, heat prickling her skin, goosebumps rising on flesh. He slides across from her and she can't believe that after fourteen years she's still breathless at how handsome he is.

The shirt he wears is blue and his cobalt eyes seem to glow in the candlelight, piercing into her. Biting her lip she grabs her menu and forces her eyes downward. This is too weird…too much…and she feels like she's on the roller coaster at Coney Island and about to lose it.

OoO

He's never been much of an art buff but he swears that her, in that dress sitting across from him in is all the art he needs in life because she looks like she was taken from the finest colors in an artist's palette, the most delicate brushstrokes used to create her. The golden glows of her skin, the way the light dances off the angles of her face and those eyes that suck him in, swirls of espresso and cappuccino that you can get lost in and never want to find your way out of.

Picking up his menu, he watches the slight tremble of his hands and chastises himself to_, get it fucking together._ He's an ex-marine, a cop and yet she has him like a schoolboy, terrified and exhilarated.

OoO

They don't speak, whispered drink orders, pretending to pour over the menu when she puts it down and sighs, "This is weird" she says and it's like someone stuck a pin in the balloon as she watches him slightly deflate.

"I know"

Sighing, she looks at the door and then back at him, "Why are we making this so hard?" she wonders aloud, "I mean, come on Stabler, you've already seen me in my underwear" she teases trying to break the tension.

It's the memory that makes his cheek flush deep crimson and he chuckles, sputtering slightly, "Much different circumstances" he manages to get out with that cheeky smirk that does her in.

Clasping her hands, she looks at him, their gazes matched, "This isn't us…why are we trying to force it?" she asks.

His mouth flails and he looks hurt and she immediately shakes her head, "I didn't mean"

"If you don't want to do this" he says defensively and his arms are crossed over his chest.

She knows his tells, when he's lying, when he's covering, they know each other too well to try to hide anything anymore and she bites her lip, shaking her head, "That's not what I meant" she starts, "I just meant, this, this whole first date let's get to know each other crap. It's not us, we're hot dogs in the sedan, or Chinese in the one six…we're easy and…"

OoO

"Come on, let's get out of here"

He says it without thinking, getting up from his seat and throwing enough down for the drinks that haven't been touched, quirking his brow. Her eyebrows furrow and he holds out his hand, "Trust me Benson?" he asks with a grin.

"With my life" she says and puts her hand in his.

By the time they get into the car, the air of nervousness has dissipated, and she's looking at him with an arched brow, her lips pursed, "Where you taking me?" she asks.

"Home"

There's a part of her that's hurt when he says it, wondering if she ruined anything in the restaurant because this has all she's wanted for so long…she just didn't expect it to be so hard because they're effortless.

When they get to her building, he looks at her, "Go upstairs, blink the lights, get comfortable, I'll be back in twenty minutes"

"What?"

"You said you trusted me" he says leaning over her to open her door from the inside, their bodies pressed way too close, the physical response of her body almost overwhelming, "Now blink the lights for me"

"Asshole"

OoO

He makes it back in fifteen, throws his jacket in the back, unhooks the buttons on his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves, his belt joining the jacket as he grabs the bags and heads up to her apartment. He knocks twice and she opens up, hair tossed in a ponytail, face free of the makeup, workout pants on and she's the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"I was worried you weren't coming back" she teases, even though there's an undertone of real fear. Because they both know this is it…and not working out, it's not an option.

Holding up the bags he smirks, "Greasy Chinese…beer, and I'll tell you what…since this is our first date and all, you can have run of the remote" he tells her and watches her cheeks flush with color and her eyes sparkle.

"You're a classy guy Stabler"

Shrugging he bumps her with his shoulder, "Only the best for you"

OoO

They pass a box of Chinese food back and forth, trading and bantering over the horror flick they found channel surfing, "No, no, you never run up the stairs" they both exclaim at the same time, more upset at the stupidity of the victims than with the actual fright of the movie.

_This feels like us_

It's an overwhelming feeling, like a peace settled in her bones and the fear that's been coursing through her ever since they began this is starting to disappear in the way his hand rests on her thigh after they eat, or how he takes a swig from her bottle when his is empty.

Being together has always been the most natural thing in the world and when she leans into him and his arm wraps around her, it's like they've been doing this for years but it's nothing compared to the moment she looks up at him, he smiles and leans in to kiss her.

Their lips graze softly, and then it's suckling slow, his hand is cupping her face and her fingers are sinking into the hard muscle in his arms and they move together so in sync that it feels like it's the thousandth time they've kissed with all the electricity of a first kiss igniting their bones.

OoO

When the kiss breaks, he rests his head against hers, "Wow" he whispers.

Tugging her lip between her teeth she smiles, "Yeah, wow"

His fingers come to her chin and he knows it's too soon to say those words, even if he already knows it, "We should do this again sometime" he whispers playfully.

The little lyrical chuckle falls from her lips, "Yeah we should"

"_How about forever?" _they both think, neither letting it fall from their lips.

Because they were always meant to be each other's last first kiss.


	12. The Present Moment

**A/N: Inspired and for the bae.**

**Hope all you are having a happy holiday season! **

**This has established EO, and is very M. So you're warned. **

_He tried hard to help me  
>You know, he put me at ease<br>And he loved me so naughty  
>Made me weak in the knees<em>

(The River – Sarah Maclachlan)

If they dusted her body for fingerprints, they would only find his rough, calloused ones, handprints that could easily wrap around her wrists.

_That once had. _

She puts down her glass of wine and stares out at the city, the Christmas trees peppering the windows, lights hanging from balconies haphazardly, and she wonders if she'll ever be able to shake the chill from her bones again.

Ooo

For a moment he had everything. It wasn't surprising that he had lost it, that just seemed to be his kind of luck, the almost…almost enough, almost forever.

If he closes his eyes when he's half asleep, he swears, to a God he's not sure he believes in anymore, that he can feel the softness of her curves as they melded against him. They had fit, in a way he knew he could never find with anyone else. She was the missing piece.

_Now she was gone again. _

Ooo

A finger trails over the cobalt sweater, its soft fabric making goosebumps erupt all over her skin. She sighs, and picks it up off the pile, and walks to the register with it. As soon as the cool breeze hits her skin, she wonders why the hell he just bought an 80 dollar cashmere sweater for someone she hasn't seen in six months.

She knows why, _because you still love him. _

Ooo

The silver chain looks more delicate in his hand than he had remembered when he first bought it and put it away for holidays. It seems stupid now but when he slides it back into his drawer, her realizes he still wants her to have it…if only as a reminder of him she can look at when she's digging for a pair of earrings and remember.

_Remember that he loves her. _

Ooo

It's 8:00 pm on Christmas Eve when she decides she's going to go give him his gift. Sure he's probably with Kathy and the kids in Queens but she'll just go to the apartment in Brooklyn and try. If he's not there, she can just leave it on his doorstep.

She admits it's the easy way out but at least he'll know she was thinking of him, and she won't have to face him, look into his eyes and not see them shining like they had once done because she realizes that…it would be the end of her.

Grabbing the keys and the wrapped box, she spins open the door and he stands there, his bottom lip between his teeth, _his eyes still shining_.

Ooo

He sat in shitty Christmas Eve traffic, on a whim. He had been driving, headed home, looked in the glove compartment, saw the box and made a last minute decision. It took everything he had to not to turn around and go back because as much as he wanted to see her, the idea of her looking disappointed when he showed up at her door, would be the death of him.

His hand is poised to knock when the door swung open, and she's standing there, mouth widened in surprised before he watches _her lips twitch slightly upwards._

Ooo

There is a surge of shock and surprise in her chest, but she can't help from the way her heart beats faster at the sight of him, blue eyes beckoning and sparkling, "Liv" he whispers but she can see him stiffen up and avert his eyes, "Shit, you were going out, I just wanted" he starts to say.

"I was coming to see you" she admits, holding the package out and looking down to the ground.

A chuckle comes from his lips and once again their gazes meet and he holds out the same silver package, "Guess we had the same idea"

Her chest constricts and she closes her eyes, fighting back the sigh of relief, "Come in, please"

Ooo

The nod is all he can muster, the scent of her shampoo tickling his nostrils as he follows her in to the room he has memorized, thankful she hasn't changed it too much. The couch where they made love, the remote they playfully fought over during baseball season, "I've missed this place" he says suddenly, not realizing the words are coming out of his mouth until she's turning to him, eyes wide.

"I've missed you" he says more pointedly and he watches as her eyes fill with tears, and he wants to come forward, to rub his thumbs under her eyes and dry the tears that begin to fall, but he doesn't want to push the line.

A knot forms in her throat and he watches it bob, "I've missed you too" she admits.

That is all the confirmation he needs to step forward, and open his arms, feeling her step into them, gripping his jacket as she tucks her head against his neck.

Ooo

Her fingers dig into his wool coat, and she kisses the side of his neck without even thinking about what she's doing because right now, it's all on instinct because he's back and he's here.

His head moves and their mouths are hovered over each other, foreheads touching, nose to nose, "I'm sorry Liv, I'm so fucking sorry" and he's not the only one who has to apologize but all she can do to keep breathing is press her lips against his and inhale him.

She can feel his hands moving into her hair, pulling her even closer, the desperation to be touching is palpable for both of them as her hands slide under his jacket, finding the soft cotton underneath, aching for his skin.

Ooo

Their lips tangle as their tongues slide soft and warm against each other, teasing and pulling, his hands trying to push her jacket off her shoulders, her own under his and he's dizzy because this wasn't what he expected.

Pulling away he rests his forehead against hers, "Liv"

She shakes her head, "Elliot, please" and it's with a whimper that any resistance he thought he had, crumbled between them.

His hands pull her jacket off greedily, her hands tugging at the undershirt tucked into his pants and their mouths haven't broken for more than a couple of seconds to pull clothing over heads. He grabs the buckle of her jeans and pulls her to him, bare chested, her lacy bra making his skin crackle with heat.

"I love you" he tells her brushing a piece of hair from her face, "I'm sorry"

"I'm sorry too" she admits, staring at him, "I love you too"

"No more sorries" is the last thing he says before crashing his mouth to hers.

Ooo

When his mouth hits her skin, she loses any resolve she thought she had. She is powerless against him, and as his lips close around her pert nipple, she rakes her nails down his scalp and hisses as her teases her. He moves between the buds, lavishing attention, until they're both sharp and swollen, wet in his saliva and he's blowing on them with a smirk, "You pleased?" she asks.

That gets a shake of the head and he's lifting her up against him as he rises to stand, long limbs wrapped around his waist, "Not even fucking close" he tells her as he pushes them both down onto the couch, kissing her hard before moving down her body.

He peppers kisses down her torso, suckling down her ribcage, dipping his tongue into her belly button and teasing her until she's bucking and practically begging for it. He bites her thigh and she grabs his head, pushing it between her thighs.

"This what you want?" he asks licking a long line between her slit.

Ooo

His tongue tingles in remembrance, the sweet tanginess of her spreading across him as he licks her core, dipping inside of her before he's moving upwards to play with her clit, swirling and flicking before moving away. He wants to pull it from her, make her beg, her hips bucking up to meet him. So he suckles her lips, teases her core, until she's panting, "Fucking Elliot" she says twisting.

It's all he needs to take her clit between his lips and suckle, bite down, make her scream with need as she wraps her thighs around his head and she's crying out for him as she cums.

Slowly he lets her ride it out, pulling up her body, "I love you Liv" he whispers when they're pushed flushed together.

"I love you too"

Ooo

She takes his length into her hand and guides him inside of her, needing to full him deeply, joined together. He hits the end of her slow, and the kisses are long, hard as he begins to rock inside of her as her nails dig into his ass, egging him on.

"More" she whispers nipping down his neck, "More"

He pulls back and plunges deeper, moving harder, ass clenched as he pumps into her, her heat encasing him, juices sliding down them both.

"Please, please, please" she yells.

Sweat drips down them both, bodies moving off the couch as they work in their frantic rhythm. It takes three strokes, and she freezes, clenching him, "Oh god, yes, yes, yes"

He lets go, deep in her, feeling the warmth spread through both of them before their bodies collapse.

Ooo

Their bodies are curved together, the throw blanket spread over them as someone lights off fireworks outside. He looks at the clock on the wall, "Merry Christmas Liv"

She murmurs and moves closer, a Merry Christmas indeed.


	13. Gifts

**A/N: This is fluffy, no real plot, no smut either this time. **

**Set during Season 1. **

_I never get the chance just to tell you  
>how out of sight you are.<em>

_You've got a special gift.  
>Do you see how you're changing the world<br>just by hanging around?_

_(You've Got a Gift – Of Montreal)_

"Don't" she warns when he strolls into the one-six, her hand up before his mouth even opens, the phone cradled against her neck, quieting whatever he was going to say.

If she wasn't so irritatingly adorable, he'd be annoyed but he smirks, shrugs and puts the coffee on her desk, "There's a special donut too" he whispers.

"Fuck off" she mutters under her breath and then quickly straightens, "No, not you, yeah, whatcha got for us?" she asks scribbling on the pad of paper and then slamming the receiver down before shooting him a look, "You gonna gawk all day, or you coming with?"

He notes she grabs the coffee and donut off her desk before walking by him in a huff, his eyes trailing the way her dress pants hug her ass and shakes his head as he follows her out of the office.

As he climbs in the passenger seat, she is angrily biting her donut and glaring. They haven't been partners long but he can detect almost every mannerism and this is her, "Don't fuck with me right now" one that makes him want to taunt her…or make her shut up.

That's a thought he throws right back into the back of his head because, that's not allowed with them, and hands off…except when she's sitting at her desk and her fingers idly slide over his as they look across at the screen. He can't say it's anything but them having a connection that wouldn't make sense to anyone on the outside because no one can understand what your partner means…or how they mean more than that.

There is a part of him that wants to taunt her but he saves it because she's in a foul mood and it would be no fun if he actually pisses her off. They drive in silence, taking an hour to get across the city to the office building. When he pulls over, she sighs, turns to him, "It's just a fucking birthday, the day I was dragged from my mother, kicking and screaming, nothing to celebrate or to make special" she spits out, then climbs out of the car and takes three steps and waits for him to follow.

_She's wrong. _

They don't make small talk, walking into the building and meeting up with their informant. It's a long couple of hours in what should have been an easy day but he actually gives them something and it spirals into surveillance and before they know it, its mid-afternoon and they're both cranky and hungry.

"You want something to eat" he asks, finally, the knots in his neck growing knots and his stomach beginning to make noises that are not human.

Instead of an affirmative, she grunts and he rolls his eyes. No one has ever been able to piss him off the way she can, in two seconds…but someone's never made him smile like she has, in two seconds, and maybe that's what works for them…she's his sanity and his psychosis.

He wanders into a bakery a half of block down, the fresh baked bread leading the way, and he grabs a couple subs, an Italian, no pepperoncini, pickles on the side for her, roast beef for him and couple generic for the guys back at the place.

When he sees it, he tells himself not to buy it and it's not until he's at the register that he flicks his head in the direction and has them wrap it up. She's probably going to give him shit about it, but it's in the pink box before he can change his mind and he's slipping it on the passenger seat before sneaking back into the building.

oOo

They trade half of their sandwiches over paperwork, and he's standing behind her. She wears something light, he's not sure if its perfume or her shampoo but he always gets heady when it's invading his senses like this, while she points to something on the sheet and he reminds himself that he has to focus. Clarity and distraction because when she moves to take a call, he sees the answer they were looking for and looks to her.

Her eyes roll, and he knows she's talking to the latest man she's dating. Some punk who's not worth her time, but that's not his business…or so she tells him, at least twice on a weekly basis. She deserves someone better, who calls when he should, takes her out on dates, holds her all night.

"I'm busy working, yeah I know what day it is, no I don't really care, its just another goddamn day, if everyone doesn't stop"

A chuckle escapes his throat and she scowls at him.

"Bye" she snaps and slams her flip phone closed, and then she's looking at him again, "WHAT?"

"Not a damn thing" he says with his hands up and his eyebrows raised, "Not a damn thing"

OoO

Its 8pm before they're done and she's rolling her neck and he wants to put his hands over her shoulders and rub slowly, easing her tension…but he knows that's improper and wouldn't look good, especially with all the suits milling around.

"You should get home" she tells him, exhaustion on her face, "Kath and the kids"

A quick shake of his head, "I ordered pizza, so shut up and fill out your damn paperwork"

That gets a little smile from the corner of her lips, "Jackass"

OoO

11:45 pm and they're finally getting out to the car. Both jackets are slung over arms and they look like they've been through the rinse and tumble cycle twice, "We're going to nail him to the wall with this" he tells her over the sedans roof.

He forgets about the little pink box until she opens the door, "What the hell" she exclaims opening it, "You didn't"

Rubbing his chin he slides in, "Happy Birthday Liv" he whispers softly as she shakes her head at the mini tiramisu in the box.

"You're an asshole" she tells him but it's softer and she's looking away across the hazy street before she's turning back to him, "I'm sorry I've"

That garners a shoulder shrug, "I get it, now look in the glove box"

Her eyebrows furrow but she opens the glove box and finds a little wrapped gift. He wanted to get her more but what do you get your female partner, who you may, or may not, have some sort of, unresolved feelings for…because nothing seemed like enough, and everything seemed like too much.

Nimble fingers slide the packaging open and she gasps, looking at him, "You?" she murmurs, her fingers coming to her lips.

It was something she had mentioned on a case, some little pendant she had fingered in a jewelry store, a lotus blossom hanging from a silver strand, _"I've always loved lotuses, growing so beautiful from the ugliest places"_ she had said, a toss away comment.

Except it hadn't been because it had reminded him of her: strong, resilient, beautiful, driving up through the ugliness and adversity to blossom into something that most people never got to see this close.

"El" he can finish the comment in his head, "This is too much" she states as soon as he repeats it for her without the words.

A smirk comes to his lips but he starts the car, "Happy Birthday Liv"

Biting her lip, she fights back the emotion that bubbles in her throat, looking down once more, wondering if he knows this is the happiest one she's had in as long as she can remember.


	14. Therapy Sessions

**A/N: I'm the writer and she's the muse. Reviews are loved and appreciated.**

_**The space between the bullets in our firefight  
>Is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you<strong>_

_**The rain that falls splash in your heart  
>Ran like sadness down the window into your room<br>The space between our wicked lies  
>Is where we hope to keep safe from pain<strong>_

_**(The Space Between – Dave Matthews Band)**_

"Are you asking me how long I've wanted to fuck my partner?"

The words come out bitterly, like they taste foul on his tongue, and the therapist simply raises her brows and leans back in her chair, "Do you think that's what I'm asking you" she asks.

He hates this shit, and if it wasn't both of their jobs on the line, he probably would have told IAB to go stick this mandatory therapy where the sun don't shine. Instead he's here, and these sessions get worse every time because it's like she's sticking her nails under each tender stitch and ripping them out of his skin.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he looks away, out of the window, "The first time she walked into the one-six"

OoO

"Are you asking me how long I've been in love with my partner?"

There are tears in her eyes and she rises from the chair to stand by the window, feeling the bile rise into her throat, unable to look at the woman across the room.

"Do you think that's what I'm asking?" she questions and Olivia can feel her shoulders sag slightly at the tone.

The fight or flight in her was being tempered and like an animal backed into a corner, she was aching to gnaw off her own arm, and run. The part that was holding her back was that she knew if she did, there would be no more SVU…no more him, and that was scarier than baring her soul to a stranger.

Pivoting on her heel, she crosses her arms across her chest protectively and sighs, "When I stopped being able to see myself do the job without him"

OoO

"Do you think these feelings are merely sexual?"

_I wish_…he thinks it but doesn't say it. There's a part of him that wishes it could just be about fucking her because then he could ignore the way her eyes reached inside of his ribcage and tore him apart, leaving him vulnerable.

"No" he answers, jaw ticking with emotion as he does.

He watches her adjust her glasses, "Would you like to talk about that?" she asks, nicely enough.

Looking at his hands, he sighs, and stares at the ground, "First year, there was a perp, she was in danger…I tried to protect her" she says letting out a quick chuckle thinking about how pissed she'd had been, "She wasn't…she didn't take to it too kindly…but I realized then, I didn't want to do this job without her" he admits choking back the sob that lingers in his throat.

It had started out so simple, first he had just fantasized about fucking her…then he got greedy, and fell in love with her.

OoO

"Have these feelings affected your personal life"

The question makes a throaty bitter chuckle escape her throat as she looks at the woman, "He's the longest relationship I've had with a man" she admits, words long whispered before in jest, now truer than she cares to admit.

"Why do you think that is?"

There's a slew of responses she could come up with, half of them bullshit, so she goes with the one that feels the most honest, "Because, no other man can make me feel what he does" she whispers, almost too scared to admit it out loud.

Sex was easy, she could take a guy home, kick him out in the morning but, letting someone see those intricate pieces of herself, to know her beyond the façade she chooses to show…that's too daunting. Until him, and she's sure that makes her even more fucked up than she cares to admit.

OoO

"Why do you think you've never crossed that line and acted on your feelings?"

There's a part of him that wants to laugh because, he's pretty sure he's acted on his feelings, more than once. The line between them had been blurred beyond recognition and too many times he had made decisions based on the feelings he tried so hard to hide away.

Licking his lips, he wrings his hands for the fifth time in a half an hour, "I have…crossed the line…" he admits trailing off, "Just because I've never made a pass at her, doesn't mean…"

"Care to elaborate"

"No"

_Richard White…Gitano…Simon…Porter_…were just a short list of times that his feelings had blurred rational, had put her above everything else in his life.

He looks back up to the shrink, "Just, there were times where my feelings, they influenced my decisions"

OoO

"Why do you think you've never crossed the line and acted on your feelings?"

_HE'S MARRIED_, _filing for divorce, but STILL MARRIED_, her brain screams but her mouth flails like a gutted fish and she's speechless for a couple of moments.

That's the tip of the iceberg but there are so many reasons beyond that but the only one that seems to slip from her lips is, "I don't think he feels the same way about me" she whispers softly, "I'm his partner"

The woman looks at her, "So you believe that his interest in you is solely professional?" she asks.

_No…yes_…she doesn't know how to fucking answer that because she's learned to listen to her brain, and cut off all oxygen to her heart, but it stays there, beating to a whisper that she's chosen to ignore. There is no possible way he can feel the same about her, he's married, and even when he wasn't, he never…they never, there's no chance.

"I don't' know" is all that manages to come out.

OoO

"I think the only way to salvage your partnership is to be honest about your feelings"

It's the first time she's given advice beyond asking him how he was feeling and his neck snaps around to look at her like she has three heads, "Why the fuck would I do that" he asks harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing with tension.

Her eyebrows raise and she takes off her glasses, "Detective Stabler, how can you effectively work with your partner without disclosing these things? Because from where I'm sitting, it's affecting your partnership" she tells him, and he knows she's right but he snorts in response anyway.

Looking at his watch, he grins, "Times up doc" he says practically jumping from his chair.

She watches him walk out of the door and sighs, wondering which of them will crack first.

OoO

He's heading to the station, that's what he tells himself when he heads towards Manhattan instead of Queens. It's not like there's anything waiting for him in Queens, besides the half furnished apartment and a couple TV dinners in the freezer.

Which is why he's sitting outside of her apartment, the words of the goddamn shrink playing in his head as his hand bangs the steering wheel. He finally forces himself out so he doesn't look like a complete fucking douchebag and walks up the stairs like he's done a thousand times, hitting the speaker box.

"Hello?" she asks sounding confused.

"Liv it's me"

There are no more words as the buzzer sounds and he's let in the front door. She's waiting with her door open by the time he comes up the stairs, her hair thrown up, in a pair of comfy pants and a light hoodie, "What are you doing here?" she asks.

God he wants to kiss her wants to push her up against the wall and steal ever y last bit of oxygen from her lungs, but he doesn't. They haven't seen each other in 6 days, not since IAB demanded those fucking therapy sessions and a mandatory two week vacation.

"How you been?" is all he can manage to get out.

She turns to him, the tiredness on her face, and she shrugs, "Going a little stir crazy" she admits.

"Yeah"

He wants to know how she's doing, if she's going as crazy as he is…if these sessions with the therapist are as revealing for her as they are for him. He presumes not and shrugs, "I guess I should do"

"Okay"

Walking towards the door, she follows and then she's right there, her arm around his body holding the door, close enough to touch, to graze against and he turns to her, almost close enough to feel her heart beneath her shirt, "When he lunged at you, I acted on instinct" he starts, acknowledging the elephant in the room, "I wasn't going to stop…because the idea of you being hurt"

"El" she whispers and her hand comes to his arm, "You don't need…"

His hand comes to her wrist, gripping her against him, "You mean too much to me" he chokes out, "I couldn't bear if anything happened to you" and his free hand comes to her cheek.

Their eyes meet and hers are filled with pools of moisture, confused, "Please" she begs and they both don't know exactly what relief she's looking for.

His foot kicks the door closed as he pushes against her, "Do you hear what I'm saying" he murmurs, "Liv"

Her mouth is so close, that he can taste her breath, and he knows it's now or never, and he pushes his lips softly against hers, swallowing the whimper that escapes her throat. For a split second, he's afraid that she's going to push him away because that's been his biggest fear, feeling her pull away and ruining everything.

When her tongue slides against the seam of his lips, he lets himself breathe as his hands come to her hair and he's kissing her with every last ounce of strength that he's used to fight this. They kiss slow, the rhythms they shared for the last decade translating in the way they know exactly how to move…to touch.

They pull apart softly, still close, fingers and hands gripping and she whispers, "El"

He doesn't want words right now, they always get fucked up when they depend on words and he's pushing his mouth onto hers, their tongues sliding together as he pushes her back towards her room. It's all on instinct now because he knows if he starts thinking, they're going to fuck it up.

OoO

They've burst wide open like a supernova and she's trembling with fear but shaking with want, and when his mouth slides onto her neck, and his hand slides up her sweater, she's powerless to stop whatever is happening between them.

It's frenzied, neither bothering to strip, her hands sliding up his shirt, his mouth on her chest, her bra merely pulled down as his mouth finds her flesh. She's pulling her nails down his back when his hand slides down her pants, into her panties and they both gasp when he slides against her, feeling the wetness pool around his fingers.

"You're so wet" he marvels before he moves against her, teasing, rubbing, and her hips are moving up to meet him, his mouth moving from her nipples to her mouth, long hard kisses as he teases her, slow circles on her clit until she's biting his neck and shaking as she cums.

OoO

The first time, all he cares about is knowing the sound she makes when she cums. It's a thought that's kept him up at night, imagining, agonizing, losing himself in the sensation, and yet, as it happens, it's better than he ever could have imagined.

She's lying there, bruised lips, clothes askew, and he's never seen anyone look more beautiful in his entire life, and he knows that once wasn't enough, that he has to feel all of her. It's as if she's read his mind as her hands come to his shirt and yank it over his head, and there they are, pulling at each other's clothes and trying to get as close as two people can.

Her legs wrap around him, her hands roaming up and down his back as they stare at each other, before he's sliding slowly into her. When he hits the end, she lets out this gasp that makes his stomach clench in need as she pulls him even closer, their skin flush, almost every inch touching.

He kisses her softly, looking in to her eyes before he begins to move, slow, rocking strokes, so he can feel the way she clenches in him when he's that deep inside of her, watching her eyes roll back as she digs her heels into his skin.

They move together, the bed buckling softly, the headboard tapping the wall, louder as he speeds up pace, her moans getting heavier, whimpers escaping her throat, her teeth digging into his bicep as she slowly loses control.

As she clenches around him, flooding him, he speeds up, losing the last bit of control inside of her, panting as he rests his head against hers and slides his weight off slightly.

Lying together, hearts in sync, neither speak…they've done enough talking this week and somehow all they need to know is in those silent breaths of life they inhale when they're together.


	15. I Want to Live

**A/N: Random one shot **

_**'Cause I want to live  
>And I want to love you the right way<br>And I want to fall asleep and then wake up with you beside me  
>I won't spend the rest of my life running from everything that's right<br>I want to live**_

_**(The Right Way – Ron Pope)**_

The rim shakes as the ball hits the backboard and bounces off. He cringes at how awful the shot was and it's followed by gruff laughter, "I see you still suck at basketball soldier" comes from behind him, the slight South Carolina drawl still hasn't fully dissipated despite the years away.

He turns and tosses the ball hard at the other man's chest watching him easily catch, lean back slightly and toss a perfect swoosh in, "Fuck off, Sergeant" he throws back as he walks to the side of the court to grab his bottle of water.

"That's Sergeant Major, sir" Jason Payne says following him to grab his own bottle before taking a long drag and then putting it down, "You know, I've been meaning to ask…how's, fine, Olivia?" he asks with that shit eating grin that reminds him of boot camp a hundred years ago.

"Still too good for you" he tells him raising his brow and staring him down.

The blonde laughs, "That's what you been saying for the ten years I've been begging you to hook me up" he tells him, "Is there anyone good enough for her? He finishes raising his eyebrows.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he can feel his eyebrows knit as he thinks of his partner, "No" he answers, grabbing the ball, "Now we gonna play or chat over tea?"

It's a defense mechanism. The last thing he wants to talk about is thinking of Olivia dating someone, the assholes she's been caught up with before have been anything but deserving, and he's not about to let his lothario ex-Sergeant get his hooks in her. He's protective, so what, that's how partners are.

"How long you and Kathy been divorced now" he throws out as they walk back onto the court.

Elliot dribbles before shooting, hitting his target this time, "Nine months, officially" he answers because it was six months before the paperwork was finally filed.

"And you haven't made a move"

This time his shot goes airborne, the words jarring him as he jumped to toss it, "ON WHO?" he asks turning to him.

His friend shakes his head, tilts it to the side, "Listen, you keep stalling, while you make up your mind, and that woman is going to get tired of waiting…she's gon find someone else, and your sorry ass is gon have to watch another man love her…that what you want?"

OoO

He's up until four on the lumpy mattress in the empty apartment, the words haunting him as he pictures her in that black dress she showed up in one night at the precinct, her skin glowing with another man's hand pressed against the small of her back.

Jumping off the bed, he goes into the bathroom, splashes water on his face, looking in the mirror and he sighs as he studies his reflection.

There's a part of him that is still too scared to admit Payne is right because he realizes that, nothing would ever be the same after. He pictures the questions in his children's eyes, Dickie already having question the extent of their relationship…he envisions telling Cragen, a new partner, a new unit. Everything would change, and, when he's feeling honest, change scares the shit out of him. He knew that's why he went back to Kathy, why he stayed because the fear of the unknown was greater than going through life, half living.

The thing that jumps out is that he never questions her…because there's a bigger part of him that already knows. They like to straddle the line, everyone questioning the impropriety of their relationships without realizing they never had to fuck around for it to be more than a partnership, because there are other ways to commit a sin.

OoO

His knuckles rap on the door and she swings it open, dressed in a pair of jeans with a pale blue sweater over. As soon as she sees him she groans, "Entire weekend off, I knew it was too good to be true" she remarks rolling her eyes as she widens the door for him to come in.

"No, no, it's not work" he says shuffling in, "Were you going out" he asks and suddenly feels heat prickle his skin looking at the way her hair curls around her face, wondering if he's already too fucking late.

"If you count a Saturday night standing pickup order from the Thai place down the street going out" she says with a chuckle, "You okay?"

He realizes his skin is flushed, his hands balled into fists at his sides, "Actually there's something" he starts but he's flailing because, fuck, he's never been very good at talking about his feelings without wanting to vomit, and not when it matters this much.

"You want some water?" she asks.

Turning to her, wide eyes, he licks his lips, a wry pained smile lifting one side of his mouth, "I want you"

Her eyes slowly blink as he mouth falls open, and she swallows hard, flailing for a moment, before she shakes her head, "What?" she asks and he knows she's pretending that he didn't just say that because, she's even better at running than he is.

"You" he says honestly, "I was at home in Queens in that shitty apartment, and all I could think was that I wanted to be with you"

She laughs nervously and he knows she's wringing her hands because she does that when something gets overwhelmed by something and she shakes her head, averting her eyes, "El" and then she tugs her lip between her teeth and he watches the confliction on her face.

It's all he can take and then he's walking towards her, his hands coming to her face gently and moving her gaze back to his, "I want you" he admits as honestly as he can, "I don't know how to do this…I've never…it's been a long time" he says laughing and then she's chuckling with him nervously.

Espresso eyes are darkened with the moisture of tears and she's shaking her head slowly his hands still cupping her face, "I don't" she starts but trails off.

"I want to take you out to dinner, and hold your hand in the fucking park and do all kinda cheesy shit we make fun of when we're on a stakeout and see stupid couples walking by" he says hoarsely, the emotion caught in his throat, "I don't know, I know it's crazy, and there is a million reasons it won't" he admits, "But there's one"

She leans in, pushing her lips against him, gratefully shutting him up and his hands come to her hair as their lips suckle and bite, the first kiss with a rhythm that makes him wonder how many times he's imagined this because with the excitement of the first time they've crossed the line is the rhythm that feels like they've been kissing every day, for a dozen years.

Their torsos are touching, her arms wrapped around him, gripping the light jacket that still wraps around his muscular body, and his hands are in her hair, then sliding down her back, touching her more in five minutes than he has in a decade of his palms aching for contact.

Somewhere in between the first kiss and the last, they're on the couch, her half pulled on his lap, his hands up her shirt, warm skin under his palms, like they're teenagers waiting for her mom to pull into the driveway, too excited to feel every inch than doing anything more.

When they part, her lips are bruised the color of vine ripened raspberries, skin flushed peach, "El"

He reaches up to push a piece of her hair behind her ear, smirking softly, "Let's not talk"

Nodding she leans in, her forehead against his, both of them unsure of what they're going to do but knowing that they've paved a trail that only moves forward.

"Thai food sounds good" he whispers.

Nodding she reluctantly pulls off his lap and he gets up, grabs her hand, pulls her back to him, "It's going to be okay" he whispers, kissing her forehead.

Even as the words come out, he's not sure he fully believes it but he'll keep saying it because he can longer imagine a life without her next to him…he's not sure he has a life at all if she's gone.

"Yeah, okay" she agrees but he knows she's even more afraid than he is because if it doesn't work…she doesn't know what else she has without him.

Grabbing her hand he squeezes one more time before letting her go and following her out of the apartment…for now, he'll hold the belief for the both of them.


	16. Written in Blood

**A/N: Sexy tiems warning. Thanks for all your love and support of these little fics. **

**You go your route, I'll go yours too. **

…

**Say something, I'm giving up on you  
>I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you<br>Anywhere I would've followed you  
>Say something, I'm giving up on you<strong>

**And I...will swallow my pride  
>You're the one that I love<br>And I'm saying goodbye**

**(Giving Up on You – A Great Big World)**

"I was offered a captain position with Chicago PD"

It's been exactly 3 years and 16 days since they've been partners, exactly 9 months, 3 days and a handful of hours since he admitted he couldn't go on much longer, drowning, with the stolen gasps of air that kicking to the surface brought.

_He needed her._ The truth was a painful one to admit, needing someone…admitting you aren't strong enough to do it on your own…the slow realization that the person he had made vows to wasn't the same person who could offer him any salvation.

The words take his breath away and his mouth flails, trying to find something coherent to say but he just licks his lips, looks to the side, afraid that his eyes will give him away, "Yeah? That's great, congratulations" he whispers, too afraid to look at her.

OoO

He says congratulations.

She nods.

Perfunctory, like they haven't perfected this careful way of dancing around each other.

"I didn't say I was going to take it" she teases and he shoots a look back to her, his blue eyes clouded with something and he relaxes his shoulders.

"It's a great opportunity" he tells her, rubbing his hand over his chin.

Sometimes she hates herself for how much she needs this man because she had carefully perfected an armor that kept anyone from ever permeating her deep enough to hurt her. _"With your partner, you let your guard down."_ That's what she likes to tell herself. That she was fine when he left, like she hadn't bled herself dry in cases and bottles of wine that tasted like bitterness.

And god help her, cause she needs him, and he's just willing to let her go…again.

OoO

"So you gonna take it?"

His lips quiver as he says it and he hopes that she doesn't notice the way it comes out as a strangled sob. Rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans, he holds his breath and waits for her to turn around and answer him.

When she does, her shoulders are sagged softly, "Dunno yet…I mean, like you said, it's a great opportunity…and what is keeping me here?"

"_ME DAMNIT" _he aches to scream but he's already taken so much from her, is it really fair to be this selfish again. Especially because right now his whole life is like a hundred car pileup on BQE and he has nothing to offer her…yet…yet, he always thought they'd have enough time.

_He just needs a little more time. _

Instead he nods, "You know I support whatever decision you make" he tells her and tries to smile. She deserves this, and if it's what makes her happy, then she should have it.

OoO

There is a part of her that aches to slap a wide palm across his face, and a part of her that wants to scream and ask him if it's just that easy for him, to let her go, again. She blames herself, for getting to emotionally involved when he came back, to finding the groove way too easily; for thinking that there was a chance of something more.

That the feelings weren't more than one sided. It was a silly fantasy, and she realizes now that she has to finally let it go. He's her best friend, her partner, and that's all he'll ever be.

"I think I'm going to take it"

Because the only way she's going to be able to finally purge her from her blood stream is to put some distance between them, no more blurred lines, or schoolgirl daydreams about something that is never going to happen.

_She's throwing in the towel._

OoO

"That's great"

It's 3 am, and he's kicking himself for not saying more, for letting her walk away without a fight. He picks up the phone and hits her contact info twelve times, never actually hitting send because, he doesn't know what to say if she did pick up.

At 6:30 am, it doesn't stop him from racing across the city, like a madman, needing to say something because he realizes if he doesn't do it now…he'll regret it for the rest of his life.

Three knocks and she opens the door, her hair still damp, her sensible work outfit, "Are you okay, are the kids okay?" she asks worried, shuffling him in.

His mouth is parched, and he can't look at her, pacing a few steps and then finally turning to catch her gaze. Her hands come to his arms, "El, you're scaring me, what's wrong?"

Biting her lip, he lets out a bitter chuckle, "It's you" he whispers and her brows furrow and before she can open her mouth he's spilling the only truth he knows, "I don't want you to go to Chicago, I know I'm a selfish prick because of it, and I can't even give you all that I want to right now because, the divorce, and I shouldn't even be here but" he stops to slide his hands into her arms, "I don't want you to go" he finishes, the last couple syllables a harsh whisper.

OoO

The tears don't register until one slides down her cheek and lands on their tangled fingers. She waffles between hysterical laughter and gut wrenching sobs because she has her resignation letter on the desk and she was going to call today and accept the job. Until he showed up on her porch, spilling his soul, and she fights back the anger that squeezes her chest because, she had told herself that it was over, and that was okay…that she was finally ready to move on.

She's lied to herself about him before but right now, the moment is like a truth serum, "What are you?" she asks, gripping his hands tighter, wondering if this is just some crazy sleep induced wishful thinking.

"I want you" he whispers, leaning in, close enough that she can smell his mouthwash, "I don't just mean right now. I know I have a lot of shit to figure out" he tells her, and she can feel his own tear join hers on their hands, "But don't leave me" he mumbles softly, hovering her mouth, "Please don't leave me"

He whispers it like a five year old boy, and she can't help the way her chest breaks, the flowers that have bloomed ripping apart at her rib cage and she kisses him, presses her mouth against his clumsily, their lips tangling, their tongues sliding together, hands still clasped like 13 year olds, kissing until there is no oxygen left in their lungs.

His forehead rests against hers and she pulls her hands away, fingers coming to the bottom of his shirt, pushing upwards to feel his hard torso. Time has faded the ridges of his muscles but he's still solid, warm skin, and she aches to touch every inch of him.

OoO

"Liv" he begs because he knows that once they start, he's not going to be able to stop but her hands slide to his chest and his arms wrap around her, pulling her flush to him, their lips finding each other again, his hands coming to her hair, tangling in her strands, tethering them together.

They pull at each other's clothes, fumbling over furniture, him tripping over his pants as he pulls them off, eliciting a chuckle from her, and he realizes this is it. This is what he's waited his entire life for. She pushes him down, straddles him, kissing over his jaw, down his neck, finding the scar from a wound where she thought she lost him.

The moment her mouth comes around him, he sees stars, his head thrown back, the sensation overwhelming after so long…because it's her. Everything is heightened, peaking before he's even ready, and they discover each other like maps to new universes.

He pulls her off before, and she looks at him, wide eyed, bruised mouth and he kisses her again, with more tenderness because he can't say the words yet but he needs her to understand, that this is forever, there's no going back. Doing so would be the emotional equivalent of a jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

OoO

He's staring down at her, his eyes shining, deep cobalt, "You're so fucking beautiful"

She murmurs a no, the depth of his words cutting into her core, and for the first time in as long as she can remember…she feels like the words mean something, and then he's slipping in slowly to her, deep, filling her.

Their hands are joined together, pinned on the arm of the sofa as he rocks gently in her, neither in any hurry, hungry for every last bit, and when he begins to thrust harder, her hips move upwards to meet him, their bodies moving rhythmically, slick and pressed.

His hand slides down between them, to rub her as he strokes in, making her gasp softly with each plunge, and then she feels it, her thighs tightening, the spasm starting in her gut, and then releases as she clenches around him.

This makes him groan, bury his face in her neck, soft suckling kisses as she rides it out, and then he rocks in slow circles, her body still quaking and cries out softly as he cums, shaking and trembling against her.

OoO

Maybe right now they can't speak any promises…but somehow they both know, the vows were written long before, in blood and tears.


End file.
